


Persona Ronpa: Hope Arc

by inkbender



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, Even the DR1 characters, Everybody Lives, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, I'll never reach 100 chapters -_-, Lots of it, M/M, Reader-Interactive, Slice of Life, Social Links, at least for now, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkbender/pseuds/inkbender
Summary: Chiaki Nanami would be perfectly content to spend her first trimester at Hope’s Peak Academy playing Gala Omega under her desk in the back row, if not for the efforts of a certain Detective Kirigiri set on uncovering the school's secrets. Coupled with a long-haired dreamwalker, a lost boy without a talent, and the mysterious countdown only she can see on all her digital devices, Chiaki has until August 20th with her classmates and friends to find out just what the heck is going on with her life.*Twenty-one simultaneous social links only! No demon summonings planned.





	1. a million feelings, a thousand thoughts, 100 memories

**Monday Morning (week 3)**

* * *

_(“I… Everyone… I love you all. I… I don’t wanna die! I had so much left to do and I thought there'd be enough time. I wanted to stay with my classmates… I wanted to play again with Hinata… Please, just one more game, one more round... We could have played games again…”)_

Her forehead smacking loudly against a firm, unyielding surface snaps Chiaki Nanami out of her usual morning power nap. Her sleepy snot bubble pops amid the chittering giggles of her classmates. She blinks as her vision slowly acclimatizes to her environment… to reveal the chalkboard four inches away from her nose.

“If you don’t know the answer, Nanami, that’s alright,” says their math teacher gently. “Please return to your seat.”

Oh. That’s right. She’d been called up to write her answer to yesterday’s geometry proofs. Instead of actually doing her homework, however, she’d spent the night prior restarting this one particular perma-death _Fire Emblem_ map over and over again until everybody survived; so, with perfect poise, she’d brought the chalk to rest against the blackboard before freezing in place for thirty seconds and promptly entering standby mode.

Standing upright in front of the entire class.

She quietly turns around, catches sight of the barely concealed giggle the Ultimate Traditional Dancer hides behind a silk fan, and glues her eyes to the floor on the way back to her desk. Right. Embarrassment, her only friend. Maybe she should have given up on her game last night and gone to bed before 3 AM. She’ll think about it… but first, she has ten rounds of _Gala Omega_ to beat before next period.

The guy in the desk before hers, with hair dyed hot pink and teeth sharpened to points, twists around as Chiaki seats herself. “Here,” he whispers, stretching an arm across Chiaki’s desk.

Chiaki stares at the white cloth pinched between the boy’s fingers for a long moment. It looks to be of very fine quality, with a shimmer too glossy for such a small square of fabric. Given the Ultimate Mechanic’s three-day streak of attending class in the same grease-stained blue coveralls, Chiaki figures this handkerchief is not his. Whose then? And why is he offering it to her? She struggles to string words together, but at the look of impatience developing on his countenance, she simply blurts, “What is this?”

Whoops. That came out louder than she intended. Half the class turns to look at her, including the Ultimate Princess sitting in front of the Ultimate Mechanic. The handkerchief must be hers. And the blonde is tapping her forehead with a smile because… Chiaki’s hand flies upward and confirms that yes indeed, she does have chalk dust in her bangs. That’s what she gets her headbutting the blackboard. Wow. Embarrassing. She quickly accepts the fabric (is it just her, or does the Ultimate Mechanic seems loathe to let go of the cloth?) and pats at her head until she’s sure her hair is chalk-free.

 _S-O-N-I-A_ is knitted in the corner of the fabric square. Chiaki silently sounds the letters together. It’s not too difficult to pronounce, and easily recognizable due to its foreign phonetics. She’ll return the handkerchief during lunch with her personal thanks. Somehow she gets the feeling that if she gives it to Ultimate Mechanic, it might not make it back to the Ultimate Princess.

* * *

_“Is this what you want?”_

_Chiaki blinks. The classroom stretches before her, completely devoid of people, however, there are signs of recent use at some of the desks. A rusted wrench sits on the desk before hers. A eyepatch rests two seats to her right. One of the desks in the front row has a splintered hole punched right through its wood. A white handkerchief splattered with dried crimson lies in her hands. She drops the threadbare cloth with surprised disgust and it disintegrates into chalk dust as it falls._

_She swivels in the direction of the voice--and there he is, sitting in the usually unoccupied desk to her left. It’s right next to the windows, perfect for staring out into stormy red skies. Black hair stretches far past his ankles yet never touches the floor. His voice lacks any sort of emotional depth, yet when he turns piercing ruby eyes on her, she feels as if she’s been punched in the gut._

_“Today marks the third week of this trimester. What have you accomplished? Is this what you really want?”_

* * *

**Lunch**

* * *

A resounding crash snaps Chiaki out of her dreams. Thankfully, this accident is none of her doing. She is, however, greatly affected by its aftermath: said crash was more akin to a small explosion, and in her drowsy stupor she is too late to dodge a folding fan to the face.

“ _Pig bitch, what the hell?_ ”

“Eep! I, I’m… erk... so sorry!”

Chiaki blinks down at the silk instrument lying on her desk. Like Sonia’s handkerchief, the fabric lining the fan’s wooden ribs are of a high thread count. Each silk thread has its place in the sakura-petal painted tapestry. It’s very pretty and it matches the kimono of the tiny girl currently screeching at a pair of legs sticking out of a jumbled pile of school supplies and spread as wide as humanly possible.

As far as Chiaki can tell, there doesn’t appear to be panties between those legs. Thankfully there is a single sheet of notebook paper placed in the appropriate spot, though it wobbles dangerously at the frantic fanning of a short guy in a chef’s outfit. Seconds later, a rocker chick with multicolored hair dropkicks the Ultimate Cook into the blackboard. The Ultimate Traditional Dancer snatches back her silk fan as the Ultimate Cook rockets past, then uses the instrument to gesture at one of the bandaged legs. “You’re impossible, hog puke. How do you trip and land like _that_?”

Curiously, Chiaki rises from her desk and approaches the disaster scene. She hesitates some as she draws near; the desk of the Ultimate Yakuza is directly adjacent to the position of the catastrophe, and the small blonde kid sitting there is currently emitting an incredibly strong killing intent. Their gazes meet. Something in his eyes hardens the longer she stares down at him. Scowling something fierce, he practically rockets to his feet before roughly shouldering his way past Chiaki on his way out of the classroom.

Chiaki notices when the grey-haired girl seated behind the Ultimate Yakuza rises silently and follows, but she’s more focused on the current catastrophe that is the Ultimate Nurse. The position the bandaged girl has managed to land herself into looks like a scene straight out of an eroge visual novel, or maybe an ecchi anime centered around a culinary high school, if the cute little octopus sausages and onigiri with cat faces scattered across the blushing maiden’s heaving bosoms from a spilled bento box are anything to go by. Though the whole having-trouble-breathing thing just might be because the rubber bands binding her arms above her head are also tightening around her neck.

There’s a metal-edged ruler sticking out from underneath the Ultimate Nurse, but it’s not nearly sharp enough. No scissors are within reaching distance either. With nothing but her own body available, Chiaki drops to her knees and presses her lips against the girl’s neck.

“What the--”

“Holy fuck.”

“Oh my!”

Chiaki snakes her tongue underneath the band just enough to bring it to her teeth. Then she nibbles away until it snaps and the girl takes a moaning gasp.

Chiaki helps the Ultimate Nurse sit up and only then notices the crowd of classmates gathered all around. Why are they all looking at her with those strange expressions? “What?”

“So… hot…” murmurs the Ultimate Cook, staring intently at a redhead’s DSLR camera until the Ultimate Musician punts him back into the blackboard.

“Did you really have to…” The Ultimate Mechanic struggles for words until a tall girl with half her shirt unbuttoned makes obscene smooching noises. “...do that!”

There weren’t any cutting utensils nearby, the girl was choking, and Chiaki didn’t want to tighten the literal rubber noose even more by pulling on the rubber band with her hands. So she used what was available--her tongue and her teeth--to solve the life-threatening situation. That’s the explanation… but saying that all out loud requires a lot of talking. She’d have to put all those words together to form coherent sentences, then string all those sentences together to create a believable argument. The task exceeds her maximum RAM. By the time she reaches this conclusion however, she realizes she’s been staring at the Ultimate Mechanic this entire time. Said pink-haired boy blushes and promptly backs down before Chiaki can even so much as shrug wordlessly.

The Ultimate Traditional Dancer hides the lower half of her face with a silk fan. “Freaks, the both of you.”

“Nooooo!” the Ultimate Nurse whines, still panting heavily. “It’s… it’s my f-fault for knocking over your d-desk, Saionji! And, um, also for dr-dr-dropping my lunch a-a-all over myself. And your sc-sc-school supplies! I’m s-s-s-such a h-horrible person! Forgive me, Saionji…”

Saionji’s face contorts nastily for a second before she smooths it into a tight-lipped grin. “Nasty pig slut, more like. Look at that grease all over the front of your shirt. Anybody can see right through it.”

“N-Nooo! Don’t look!”

The state of the Ultimate Nurse’s shirt really isn’t as bad as Saionji is making it out to be. Sure, some of the stirfried veggies may have left transparent oil stains on the girl’s white shirt, but it’s not something a little soap and hot air won’t fix. Chiaki has a spare shirt in her locker as part of her undead apocalypse preparation plan (among other essentials)… though honestly, with the size of the girl’s rack, Chiaki feels like the Ultimate Nurse should be used to dropping food on herself all the time. Maybe she’ll have her own spare shirt? Because Chiaki’s own pair are at least three times smaller than the purple-haired girl’s…

She pulls the Ultimate Nurse to her feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she murmurs.

“Oi! Pig shit! What about my desk?”

Chiaki drags the Ultimate Nurse out of the classroom before she can reply. First things first: make this girl presentable to the public. Cleanup can come later. In lieu of shouting this back to her classmates--she’s not sure she could even find the words to communicate her intent in time--she steadies her companion when the girl trips over her own feet. “Are you okay?”

The girl sounds like she might be crying. “I’m th-th-the worst. The absolute w-worst.”

“No, you’re not. That title would go to Kefka Palazzo.”

The Ultimate Nurse sniffles. “K… Kef-who?”

“Kefka, the ultimate destroyer of the World of Balance. He enslaved one of the main characters, poisoned the water supply to kill hundreds of people, and gathered all the magicite from all the dead espers to ascend to godhood and bring about the end of the universe as we know it. Plus he looks like an evil clown. Clowns are just bad news.”

“O... Okay…”

“Then there’s GLaDOS.” She hums thoughtfully as they arrive at the girls’ locker room. “But she was never human, so maybe she probably doesn’t apply to this situation. The situation being that you aren’t horrible or villainous or the worst. You’re just…” She pauses at her locker. “...um... you. I think.”

Her classmates had all introduced themselves during the first week of school, but honestly Chiaki had been too busy solving all the puzzles in her game’s zero escape room under a time limit. The titles and talents of her classmates were all she figured she really needed to know since she wasn’t really planning on talking with any of them. And yet here she is now...

“Oh! I’m Tsumiki. Mikan Tsumiki. Ultimate Nurse.”

“Chiaki Nanami.” She dials her locker open and retrieves the extra shirt from underneath the instant ramen packages and crowbar. (The kabane invasion will not take her by surprise.)

“Nanami! So that’s your last name. You fell asleep right after saying your first name during first week introductions, so some of us didn’t know what to call you.” Tsumiki glances up at her through fluttering eyelashes as she unfastens her shirt buttons sensually. “Nanami… You’re the first person to do something so kind for me. I don’t know what I can do in return.”

The way Tsumiki flings her shirt to the floor and takes Chiaki’s hands to pull her close says otherwise. Fascinated, Chiaki imagines the locker room scene behind the Ultimate Nurse fading into a pastel background accented by sparkling bubbles and pure white lilies in full blossom. Something smells nice. Tsumiki smells nice. She’s so close. Her lips glisten with saliva and her breath is sweet.

“Nanami? Tsumiki?” Sonia strolls into the locker room seconds later, pausing as she takes in the scene before her. “I apologize… Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” Chiaki says bluntly. She pulls away when Tsumiki nuzzles a spot under her jaw, if only because she’s trying to dig around in the pocket of her jacket and whatever Tsumiki’s doing is distracting. Tsumiki whines but doesn’t approach any closer as Chiaki presents the neatly folded handkerchief to Sonia. “Thank you.”

“You are very welcome.” Sonia’s gracious smile slips into a puzzled frown. “Tsumiki, where is your shirt?”

While Tsumiki stammers her explanation, Chiaki pulls her spare shirt from her locker and pushes it into Tsumiki’s arms. Two packets of instant noodle topple from her locker as well and she moves to replace them.

“Nanami,” Sonia says disapprovingly. “Do not tell me you plan to use these empty calories as a mealtime substitute.”

They’re part of her zombie apocalypse food reserve, she wants to say. But then she’ll have to explain what zombies actually are and why she has a hunting knife and wrecking bar in her locker when weapons aren’t allowed on school property (never mind how she managed to sneak them in), plus her reasoning for why an undead future is a very real possibility. That’s a lot of words and Sonia is already speaking anyways.

“No, this will not do. Our lunchtime is almost over and I cannot leave two of my good classmates without a proper midday meal.” Sonia procures a large three-tier bento box from nowhere and sets it on the bench between them. She separates the layers and carefully places them next to each other with such tender care, Chiaki immediately concludes Sonia had a hand in making these dishes. Simple onigiri triangles speckled with black sesame seeds and fish flakes fill the entirety of the lowermost bento. The next layer is packed with lumpy panko-fried tempura vegetables and shrimp. The topmost bento contains mostly steamed vegetables. Sonia finishes by presenting each with their own pair of chopsticks.

Tsumiki’s eyes well with tears. “N-N-No, I couldn’t--”

“ _Eat_ ,” Sonia commands. In that moment, her voice carries a power and authority that instantly bends Chiaki to Sonia’s will. She brings a rice triangle to her mouth and takes a bite. It’s very plain, not filled with anything at all. The rice mixture is very simple, with just the right balance of dried fish and soy sauce.

“Yum,” she says quietly. “It’s good.”

“Thank you.” Sonia takes the soiled shirt from Tsumiki’s hands and replaces it with a small paper cup of peeled edamame. “As the Ultimate Princess, it is my duty to ensure my people are well-fed and cared for.”

_+1 Hope Fragment: Priestess!_

_+1 Hope Fragment: Empress!_

* * *

**Afternoon**

* * *

Chiaki’s heart sinks as the day wears on. She’s just noticed the schedule for classroom cleaning duty posted to a corner of the blackboard: this week is her team’s turn to sweep and mop the floors, wipe down the windows and blackboard, and scrub and polish the desks, among many other things.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, next heir to the largest yakuza syndicate in the country, is on her cleaning team.

She isn’t scared of him. She isn’t. But he didn’t have to physically ram his shoulder into hers earlier. There’d been plenty of space for him to pass by without running into her at all. Kuzuryu had very deliberately shown aggression, all because, what, she stared at him?

When the last school bell rings, Chiaki slumps in her seat and watches as her classmates slowly empty the room. Within a few minutes, the only teenagers remaining are herself and a frail, skinny boy with deep shadows under his eyes.

Their homeroom teacher breezes into the classroom seconds later. “It’s my favorite time of day!” Sensei trills, shedding her suit jacket and donning a frilly white apron in a single motion. “Housekeeping with my wonderful students! Mitarai and Nanami, are you ready to…” She trails off before quickly consulting her teacher’s tablet. “Hold on, where’s young Kuzuryu?”

The classroom door slams open at that moment, admitting a grey-haired girl with a bamboo shinai strapped to her back. “I have switched positions with the young--with Mr. Kuzuryu. I will take on his cleaning responsibilities for this week.”

Sensei smiles. “If you two have agreed upon a fair exchange, Pekoyama, then I have no objections. Now are we ready to clean house or what?”

Sensei’s cheerful demeanor adds a bit of light to the following half-hour, which passes into relative silence. As the Ultimate Swordswoman, Pekoyama handles the bamboo broom with the same skill as her shinai; her movements are quick, precise, and graceful, achieving its maximum effect with minimal effort. Because Mitarai’s pencil-thin arms aren’t fit to lift anything heavier than a cleaning rag, he’s set to wiping down windows. Chiaki takes on the task of scrubbing the desks free of inky doodles scribbled by bored classmates. Sensei flits from task to task while assisting where she’s needed, supplying a ready stream of helpful tips, and humming a jaunty tune. Everybody carries out their duties quietly without feeling the need to fill up the space between them with empty conversation. It’s actually quite relaxing.

...Until Chiaki senses somebody staring holes into her back.

She glances over her shoulder to find Mitarai glaring at her openly. The way he looks at her… he looks like he’s deeply conflicted. Chiaki stares right back--she’s totally the master of blank, vacant stares--until he glances away in guilt.

* * *

**Evening**

* * *

“Just the woman I’m looking for. Chiaki Nanami, please come with me.”

The command is issued without authority or power, simply truth. Chiaki complies immediately, banking a sharp right upon exiting the school entrance even as she keeps her attention focused on her Nantendo GameGirl speed run. Only when she’s beat the dragon gym leader with her monotype Nuzlocke survivors does she hit pause and glance upward to meet the lavender eyes of the girl concealed within the school’s late afternoon shadows.

“...Who are you?” Chiaki asks.

While the girl dresses rather smartly, it’s not the Hope’s Peak Academy uniform. And though it’s true that half of the 77th class doesn’t bother wearing said uniform, their class sizes are so small that everybody pretty much recognizes everybody else by sight. She doesn’t--

Hold on.

Nope, never seen her before.

“I’m the Ultimate Detective.”

Titles tell her more about how people will act than their actual names, so Chiaki is ay-okay with the girl withholding her identity. “How did you find my name out?”

“77th Class enrollment website. Chiaki Nanami, the Ultimate Gamer.”

Oh. She forgot about that. Her acceptance letter had even provided the website’s URL to her on the assumption that she’d want to research her classmates’ talents thoroughly. All she’d wanted at the time was to catch all the beetles and buy all the turnips and resell them at ridiculously higher prices to become the world’s fastest bellionaire.

The lavender-haired girl glances down at Chiaki’s GameGirl. “ _HeartGold_ or _SoulSilver_?”

Chiaki relaxes instantly. “Our Lord Helix can only be resurrected in _HeartGold_.”

A fleeting smile flits onto the detective’s face before she unfolds her arms. “Walk with me.”

They exit through the gate of the main building and saunter into the Academy’s central courtyard at an amiable pace. They’re well into the month of May and every sakura tree is in full blossom. Chiaki still knows next to nothing about her companion, but she doesn’t seem like a dangerous person. She’s very pretty and this walk feels slightly romantic, in a platonic sort of way. That’s just the vibe Chiaki’s getting from the stoic detective.

After a moment of thought, she finally pieces together a suitable question. “Which class are you in?”

“The 78th.”

It’s the third week of Chiaki’s first trimester at Hope’s Peak as a student of the 77th Class. As far as she knows, she _is_ the underclassman. Bottom of the social ladder. Nobody beneath her.

She struggles to articulate this, but thankfully the lavender-haired girl seems to perceive her blank expression easily enough. “Early acceptance, special conditions,” she explains. “As I am currently on a personal investigation, I would appreciate but cannot force your cooperation.”

“Okay.”

“What do you know of Hope’s Peak reserve course?”

“What?”

The girl nods towards the west side of campus. Chiaki blinks slowly as a massive building materializes through the cherry blossom trees. She’s never had a reason to explore this part of campus, but… wow. The building before her practically scrapes the sky. When did another tower pop up on school grounds? There aren’t nearly enough ultimate talents to fill that many floors.

“That building houses Hope’s Peak’s reserve course students,” says the Ultimate Detective. “Talents aren’t required for this program. Students obtain enrollment through a simple entrance exam and exorbitant tuition.”

“Hmm.”

A ringtone disrupts the silence between the two girls. “One moment,” says the detective, walking away as she puts the cellphone to her ear. Chiaki takes the opportunity to switch games and clear as many waves as she can before her companion returns.

“Um, excuse me?”

Chiaki glances upward. A short, plain-looking boy with a sizeable ahoge is talking to her. She takes a moment to switch from gaming to speaking mode, noticing in that time that he’s accompanied by a girl she might have seen before on TV. One of those transient pop idol sensations with addicting tunes about the powers of friendship, even though all their technicolor music videos have overt yuri implications.

“Have you seen a girl with purple hair around here? Purple jacket, wearing purple gloves, goes by Kyoko Kirigiri?”

The boy’s friend has a plastic smile affixed to her face. After spending time with the expressionless but truthful detective, Chiaki is instantly unnerved by the singer’s forced expression.

“I know a girl with purple hair,” she answers truthfully, thinking of Tsumiki covered in rice, “but her name isn’t Kirigiri.”

“Oh, alright then. Thanks!” The boy and his friend jog off in another direction.

Welp, now is as good a time as any to return to the dorms. She tries to orient herself only to find she has absolutely no idea where she is. She’s walked the path between the dorms in the south and her classes in the east so many times she can do it with her eyes closed (or focused on her handheld gamer), but Detective Kirigiri dropped her off in a completely foreign area of campus. The west side, it seems, with all the reserve course students she never knew about.

Fine then. All she needs to do is walk east until she hits the central fountain, then swing a right and head south until she smells the cafeteria dinner. Her GameGirl has a compass function built into its homescreen, so all she has to do is… Huh. Not two minutes ago, sleepy kittens had adorned her homescreen. Now, however, the background depicts a serenely smiling man hanging upside down from a tree. Every five seconds, the background swivels a full 360 degrees to briefly reveal another image: a bear mask split evenly in two with a white left side and black right side.

Frowning uneasily, she peers at the upper right corner. At least her widgets remain the same: battery bar, WiFi signal, compass direction, and time and date: _100:7:30 - 20 August._ Yeah… no. Time and date are definitely wrong. She enters her GameGirl’s settings to fix it, but the moment she returns to her home screen it reverts to _100:7:29 - 20 August._

...Did the clock just go back in time?

She waits a full minute to confirm it. Yes, GameGirl’s internal clock is officially broken; it’s going back in time and the date is stuck four months ahead. Good thing _Gala Omega_ runs on an in-game clock. Following the compass, she orients herself east and begins walking.

She gets all of ten footsteps before she runs into a wall.

The wall is warm. Kind of padded too, but with a solid firmness underneath. Not very breathable though. She arcs her neck back, takes a deep gulp of oxygen, and finds herself four inches from somebody’s face.

Huh.

Um.

“Hello.”

“...Are you okay?”

Chiaki considers this. “I’m lost.”

The boy’s eyes flick up and down her body. “Are you an Ultimate Talent?”

If he’s checking her out, she figures she has the right to reciprocate. He isn’t that much taller than she, though he’s lean and slightly built. Other than that… her eyes would normally sweep right over him if they hadn’t literally run into each other. Though now that she really takes a look, his uniform is the same as hers, only colored differently. Part of the reserve course?

“I’m lost,” she repeats. "I think." 

The boy grins bitterly. “I guess you wouldn’t have much reason to explore this half of school.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” she counters. “The sakura trees of the western half of campus are just as pretty as those of the eastern half. The students of each half are equally attractive. This concludes my personal investigation.”

She blurts these words because they're the first thing that came to mind, but she finds it's quite true. The dancing cherry petals falling all around them add a very lovely and sentimental subtext to their chance meeting. Under these circumstances, if she had to categorize him according to the boyfriend stereotypes of the dating sims she plays every once in a while, she'd put him squarely in the boy-next-door trope: fairly average but easily relatable. Easy to talk to, easy to get close to. The nice guy.

The reserve course student chuckles, this time genuinely. “Fair enough." He jumps a little, startled, as her game finally chooses to boot up at that moment and play its opening sequence. "Hey… is that the theme to _Gala Omega_?”

His words are simple enough. Why does her chest feel like it’s going to implode? It’s unbearingly hot all of a sudden and her breath speeds up and her heart hammers frantically from underneath a crushing two-ton weight and something deep within her yearns desperately--

_(“We could have played games again.”)_

“So you’ve played it before?” she gasps.

“Um… yes? I new-game-plus’d it once five times on lunatic mode…”

"I'm on my tenth lunatic new-game-plus right now, but you, you're like the first person I've met who's even played it before!" She bounces right back up to him eagerly, words colliding together in a chaotic jumble in her mind and spilling out her mouth without a second thought. "It's a classic, don't you agree? A trendsetter that set the bar for all future games of its genre! You have to show me your high score!" 

When he doesn't immediately pull out his handheld and show her, she falters. Her conversation train crashes and burns and suddenly she's not sure what to say next. She's only aware of how close they are: one hand on his chest, the other brandishing her GameGirl enthusiastically, their noses so close she can feel his quickened breath on her face. 

"The reserve course prohibits us from bring gaming systems to class," the boy says slowly, "but I could just leave it in my bag and not bring it out until after school..."

"...And then," she concludes excitedly, her conversation train roaring back to life, "we can play video games together! Tomorrow, okay?"

"If I can find my copy..."

"In case you can't, I'll bring a backup game or three," she enthuses. "I have second copies of all my favorite oldies but goodies in a fireproof safe, in case one spontaneously explodes and burns my house down. I'll loan you those ones if you want! Only if you sign over your soul though, some of these cartridges cost an arm and two legs. Meet me tomorrow at the central fountain, alright? Don't hurry at all though, I have cleanup duty this week."

"Y-Yeah. Sure." The boy looks a little dizzy and cross-eyed from her rapidfire words. "Me too. I mean, I have cleanup duty too."

Fancy that. So them both meeting here was really lucky then. Maybe even fate or something. She barely stops herself from asking for a talent; if he's a reserve course student, then he has none... In which case she'll actually have to learn his name, then learn what he's actually like without a guideline talent to help her along. "What should I call you?"

He blinks until his gaze refocuses on her. "Uh. Hinata. My name's Hajime Hinata."

What an unremarkable name. Hmph. She supposes tomorrow's date will give her plenty of time to figure out what kind of person he is. "Chiaki Nanami. Now show me you know how to get to our meeting spot. Go ahead." She restarts her tenth new-game-plus of  _Gala Omega_ , filling the air around them with  _beeps_ and  _pew-pews_ and  _booms_. "I'll be right behind you."

"...Don't tell me this was all just a ploy to get me to show you how to get back to the central fountain."

_+1 Hope Fragment: Fool!_

* * *

**Night**

* * *

_He's waiting for her when she drifts off to sleep, her fireproof safe unlocked for the first time in years and a variety of backup games tucked away safely in her backpack. She blinks curiously at the boy sitting at the foot of her bed, red eyes glowing from behind a curtain of midnight-black hair, and wonders why he suddenly looks so familiar._

_When he opens his hands, three rotating cards jump out to hover in the space between them. Each card is backed by a grinning bear mask split right down the middle into white and black halves. Each card face displays a different image: a dancing jester, a queen wearing a crown of stars, and an elderly woman holding an open book._

_"Is this what you want?"_

_"I don't know," she answers honestly. "Should I?"_

_"That's for you to find out."_

_"Who are you?"_

_"You already know," he answers cryptically. He plucks one of the cards out of midair and flashes it at her. "The Fool Arcana: representing a blank slate with infinite creative possibility. Why, I wonder..."_

_Chiaki waits for him to finish his question. When he only stares at the Fool card for a full two minutes in silence, she rolls over and snuggles into her pillow. "Good night," she murmurs. "I have... a date tomorrow..."_

_He vanishes slowly as she sinks into REM sleep. "Why aren't you the Fool Arcana, Chiaki Nanami?"_

* * *

**Chiaki Nanami’s Social Qualities**

Empathy: basic (level 1)  
Expression: silent (level 0)  
Knowledge: clueless (level 0)  
Courage: wallflower (level 0)

**Chiaki Nanami's Major Arcana**

0\. Fool.................★☆☆☆☆..... Hajime Hinata  
I. Magician...........☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
II. Priestess..........★☆☆☆☆..... Mikan Tsumiki  
III. Empress.........★☆☆☆☆..... Sonia Nevermind  
IV. Emperor..........☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
V. Hierophant.......☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
VI. Lovers............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
VII. Chariot..........☆☆☆☆☆..... Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu  
VIII. Justice..........☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
IX. Hermit............☆☆☆☆☆..... Peko Pekoyama  
X. Fortune............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XI. Strength.........☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XII. Hanged Man...☆☆☆☆☆..... Kyoko Kirigiri  
XIII. Death...........☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XIV. Temperance...☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XV. Devil..............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XVI. Tower............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XVII. Star.............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XVIII. Moon..........☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XIX. Sun...............☆☆☆☆☆..... Yukizome-Sensei  
XX. Judgement......☆☆☆☆☆..... Izuru Kamukura  
XXI. World............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a fusion fic, not a crossover! Only the power of relationship-building social links has been borrowed from the Persona series; summoning demons from the depths of one's soul to fight world-destroying monsters won't happen, since the universe that this story occurs within is that of the original Dangan Ronpa series. While there may be some fight sequences (because I _love_ writing action and combat), most chapters will be devoted solely to character development, friendship advancement, and fluff. 
> 
> This story will be slightly interactive: Chiaki will strengthen her bonds of friendship with individuals you request for in the comments. All characters have interlocking stories with at least two other characters, such that one relationship can't advance until the others two (or three) have reached certain ranks. I’ll let you know after each chapter about which relationships should be built before others can advance.
> 
> The Major Arcana are a suit of twenty-two cards in a tarot deck. Each arcana depicts a scene with certain symbolic elements - the tower arcana concerns pride leading to a great fall, the lovers' arcana considers the decision to take an easy path versus the right way, etc. Knowing the themes around each arcana might help you predict why the corresponding classmate acts the way they do, but it’s not necessary to enjoy the story.


	2. success is 99% failure

**Tuesday Morning**

* * *

Chiaki gets the distinct sensation that someone is waiting for her seconds before she steps into her homeroom.

She pauses just inside the door, staring at the only other classmate in the room. Of all the people she considered possibilities, she had definitely not predicted the perpetually late Ultimate Mechanic.

Not that she can judge him; normally her perception of time is just as loose as his. But this morning, when her phone has blared her normal wake-up alarm, something had prevented her from swiping the snooze pattern seven or eight times, even though her fingers have long learned the muscle memory to do it in her sleep. She’d glimpsed the time displayed on her phone and it’d woken her up instantly: _99_ _:18:00, 20 August._ For a groggy five seconds, she’d thought she’d overslept _big time_. Then, as soon as the initial panic had died down, she’d noted the differing numbers. And the numbers that remained the same: the 20th of August was a little over three months out. That was 100 days… yesterday.

Today, August 20th was 99 days and 18 hours away.

It all made sense.

Except it didn’t.

She lay in bed for the greater portion of an hour, trying to puzzle the significance of August 20th. The end of summer break, it seemed. But with no meaningful answers forthcoming, Chiaki had finally rolled herself out of bed and gotten ready for the day, at least 90 minutes earlier than normal.

And the pink-haired Ultimate Mechanic had _still_ beat her to class.

“Move it, Sleepyhead.”

Chiaki wordlessly steps aside, allowing entrance to the tiny Ultimate Traditional Dancer. The redheaded photographer follows. Chiaki’s relieved they’re here; sitting directly behind the Ultimate Mechanic in an empty classroom would have been six kinds of awkward. She doesn’t even mind that the two girls are practically on the other side of the classroom; they’re comforting presences notwithstanding, and with confidence and security does Chiaki seat herself behind the pink-haired boy.

Her confidence evaporates the instant the boy swivels to face her. “Hey… Nanami, right?”

Why is he talking to her? She glances at Saionji and her friend, silently calling for help. The redhead is too busy looking through her photographs, but after a moment, Saionji notices. She does a double take before hiding a gleeful smile behind a fan painted with sakura petals.

Forget comforting presences. They’re just hope bait, dangling just out of reach. She turns back to the Ultimate Mechanic in despair. “Who are you?”

He wheels back abruptly. “Woman, I’ve been sitting right in front of you for two weeks. How can you--”

“Ultimate Mechanic. You told me how to fix my red ring of death eight days ago. Thanks for the advice, by the way. It worked. What’s your name?”

He looks somewhat pleased with her gratitude, however monotone it might have been. “They call me Kazuichi Souda, but you can just call me--”

“Souda,” she interrupts, “did you want something?”

He gawks at her before slamming his jaw shut and smiling tersely. “Yesterday, I passed along a hanky straight from my purest angel of--”

“I’ve already returned it to her.”

Souda’s mouth drops into optimal fly-catching position. “Wut.”

“Sonia visited us in the girl’s locker room while we washed Tsumiki’s clothes.” She licks her lips. Sonia’s homemade lunch might not have been of the highest quality, but eating food prepared with love by somebody else brought out flavors the dish might not otherwise have. “Yum.”

Bright pink begins to drip from Souda’s nose. “Wuh.”

Saionji snorts from across the room. “What kind of filthy things did you and pig bitch do to the princess in the locker room, hm?”

The redhead continues to silently flip through her photo albums as if she wasn’t literally sitting within four feet of Saionji’s toxic tongue.

Nanami resolutely ignores Saionji. She can’t ignore Souda though, who slams his hands on her desk angrily. “Don’t you dare lay a dirty hand on my lovely angel!”

Chiaki shies away from his aggression. “We washed our hands,” she lies weakly. “Sonia made me before I ate her tempura shrimp.”

“H-Her…” If anything, this statement drives Souda into an even greater frenzy. “Her tempura shrimp! What the _hell_ do you mean by that?”

He practically towers over her at this point. Any further and the lovely drippings from his nose will stain her clothes. She mentally prepares herself to jump ship within the next five seconds--

“Oi!”

Souda’s head snaps to the side when a chalkboard eraser smacks into his cheek. It’s traveling so quickly, a cloud of chalk dust poofs upon impact and settles on his face. “Hey!” he coughs. “What the...?”

“Pick on somebody your own size,” a brown-skinned girl growls from the front of the class. Her unbuttoned shirt barely contains her gigantic breasts and her skirt is missing a good six inches of coverage. She’s juggling a second eraser in her throwing hand, looking like she’s just waiting for another excuse to boom!headshot somebody.

Souda slowly seats himself as if just realizing how close he was getting. “Eh… sorry…”

“It’s okay. Sonia wanted us to taste-test her food. That’s all we did.”

“Oh?” He twists to face her eagerly. “My angel of love is cooking now? Why didn’t you say so earlier? I could have easily--”

Chiaki shoves a small blue cloth in his face. “Here.”

“...What is this?”

She gestures at the white powder all over his nose and mouth and, in a complete monotone, says, “You look like a druggie.”

Souda startles violently, then whips out his phone and checks himself out in the selfie camera. He stares for a good five seconds before his shoulders tremble slightly. The brown-skinned girl, now seated at her desk directly to Souda’s right, visible prepares herself for another suppressive measure--until Souda abruptly bursts into peals of laughter.

“First you, now me,” he snorts, wiping his face with her handkerchief. “You seem a’ight.”

* * *

**Lunch**

* * *

“ _Hellllll yeahhhhh!”_

Has her class always been this crazy? Chiaki would like to say she would have noticed after two weeks with them, but honestly, the only reason she’s awake right now is because Souda insists she be his wingwoman. They’d planned to ask Sonia for free food, but…

“I hold a spike firmly in the middle of its chest/  
I draw back the hammer and bang bang bang,  
You brought this on yourself, _bang! Bang! BANG! NOOOOOOOOOO!”_

Billowing heat washes over them as fire erupts from the flamethrower built into the Ultimate Light Music Club Member’s electric guitar. Marinated chicken and salted leeks pop and crackle on bamboo skewers held high by the Ultimate Cook himself, and when the flames dissipate the yakitori are tossed down upon a serving platter to be consumed by the Ultimate Gymnast.

The chicken smells amazing. Nothing is on fire. Everybody is alive and probably salivating out their mouths, but nobody is brave enough to approach the screamo inferno standing atop the teacher’s podium, or the territorial beast guarding her delicious pile of food.

Chiaki takes out her bento. She can accept just appreciating the fragrance of fresh-cooked meat. Lunch and a show.

She’d tried to prepare her own lunch last night; the only thing she could get right was the onigiri. How long had it taken Sonia to prepare a three-tier bento? She’d like to thank the Ultimate Princess all over again, but how would she even bring it up in conversation?

“Ah, nothing like a forceful clearance to get things movin’ again!” The classroom door slams open to admit a hulking shadow. Chiaki can’t really make out his figure through all the greasy smoke filling the room. “Whoa! Slow down there, Owari!”

The Ultimate Gymnast chokes as she is physically manhandled away from the platter of chicken skewers. She struggles fruitlessly for a second before desperation (and maybe a little panic?) kicks in. And when even that doesn’t result in her release, the Ultimate Gymnast kicks upward to, with impossible flexibility, wrap a toned leg around the neck of her capturer (flashing the entire class in the process) and flex mercilessly. Anybody else would be choking for oxygen now… but her opponent is built like a brick shithouse. His neck alone is thicker than Chiaki’s waist. By the time Owari discovers this, the Ultimate Team Manager is slamming her into the ground with enough force to rattle the windows.

“Our marriage is sealed, the vows have been planned/  
They’re written in blood and delivered by hand/  
The ceremony to be held in that other world/  
Let my feelings reach you toooooo, _ROOOOOOOAAARRRRRR!”_

Chiaki bites into her onigiri. Mm. Needs more fish flakes.

“Everyone in the class deserves a fair share of food,” the Ultimate Team Manager bellows over the final roar of fire. “Stand aside, Owari, or I’m benching you.”

With one final guitar riff, the Ultimate Light Music Club Member powers down her set and, in a voice that’s much too startlingly clear and high to have been shredding vocal chords not two minutes earlier, declares, “Thank you, thank you! Please address your cards of love and gratitude to the one and only Ibuki Mioda: writer, composer, and songstress in one!”

Chiaki takes another bite. Now that the pile of meat prepared by the Ultimate Cook is open and free for the pickings, her onigiri tastes like a ball of mushy rice held together by dead fish and cheap soy sauce. She places the sad little sphere back in her bento and leans forward. “Sonia.”

Sonia just looks thankful to take a break from halfheartedly replying to Souda’s lame attempts at conversation. “Yes, Nanami?”

Chiaki points at the pile of meat. “Wanna try some ultimate-level Japanese yakitori?”

Sonia brightens. “Yes, let us.”

With the massive man holding Owari back and Mioda carefully stowing her flamethrower-guitar away, Sonia and Chiaki are safe to venture to the front of the class. However, they did not anticipate the threat of the third danger…

“Oh ho ho, ladies… Here to partake of my meat, are you?” The Ultimate Cook twirls on a pointed toe before shoving skewers almost up their noses. “Extra salty, just for you!”

Sonia bites delicately into the chicken and chews slowly. Chiaki just shoves half of it in her mouth. The burnt bits provide the right amount of umami flavor and sweet soy sauce, ginger, and tones of garlic explode across her tongue. The leeks are crispy on the outside but soft and fragrant within its innermost layers. She lets her eyes roll into the back of her head, but “Yum,” is all she can manage.

“What did you use in the marinade?” Sonia asks more eloquently. “I taste brown sugar cane and Himalayan rock salt…”

“Ah, doncha just wanna sava’ the flava’ of sweet n’ spicy love? I added somofda the Hanamura family’s special secret ingredient, passed down unto me by mah dear momma--”

Bright pink drips from his nose. He’s also speaking differently, kinda with a slight country accent. Chiaki files this for later perusal as she grabs another two skewers before dragging Sonia away by the elbow. She can’t quite understand what’s making the Ultimate Cook bleed like that, but if Souda is anything to go by, sudden nosebleeds by members of the hornier sex probably don’t bode well for those nearby.

When a boy with wispy white hair steps up next, Hanamura’s nosebleed pulses even faster. “Hon hon hon, just mah type…”

Sonia still looks thoughtful, so as Chiaki hands her another kebab she asks, “Are you trying to learn how to cook?”

“You said it was called yakitori?” Sonia masticates contemplatively. “This tastes very similar to a kind of Novolesian street food. I am sure I could reproduce it, but I would like--”

“Did someone say _reproduce_?” calls Hanamura.

Mioda slips and drops her guitar case, which cracks open just enough to let out a stream of fire that arcs all the way across the classroom and set the seat of Hanamura’s pants ablaze. “Whoopsies,” she shouts, tossing her guitar case into their classroom’s cleaning-supplies closet and pulling out a fire hydrant. “Ibuki’s really clumsy!”

While Mioda’s busy smacking Hanamura around with the large metal canister instead of actually, y’know, extinguishing him, Sonia finishes the rest of her thought. “I would like to repro… imitate the true Japanese flavor as best I can. Will you assist me in purchasing the necessary ingredients this afternoon?”

“I…” Her heartbeat speeds up at the invitation, only to stutter to a halt upon remembering the extra weight in her backpack. “I’m… already meeting someone…”

Sonia nods. She doesn’t look disappointed at all. Chiaki sure as heck would have been. “I understand. Perhaps some other time.”

“Maybe I could help?” Souda pipes up. Oh right, his desk is located right between theirs. Huh. “I know how to cook!”

Sonia smiles faintly. “Oh?”

“Hey! I can totally whip up a mean bowl of scrambled eggs! Don’t judge a book by its cover!” Souda exclaims. “Just because I’m an awesome mechanic, doesn’t mean I can’t also be a kickass cook! It can’t be that much harder than collecting scrap parts to build a car.”

Souda’s need to vehemently defend himself casts a lot of doubt on his believability, in Chiaki’s humble opinion. She keeps this tidbit to herself when Sonia nods enthusiastically.

“Yes, you are right,” Sonia says. “Please accept my sincerest apologies, Mr. Souda.”

“Just call me Kazuichi. Ultimate Egg Beater!”

“What time shall we meet after class, Souda?”

Chiaki holds back a sigh. She knows next to nothing about Souda; maybe he doesn’t burn everything to charcoal anytime he tries to cook. Chiaki herself only succeeded with onigiri because her mom insisted she keep a personal rice cooker in her dorm room. Maybe Souda can actually make something edible.

“Nobody’s dying on my watch! Drop and roll, Hanamura!” the Ultimate Team Manager roars. He sheds his sports jacket and joins Mioda in beating Hanamura over the head, though his method is 200% more effective. Saionji giggles while the redhead photographer snaps another picture.

Maybe Souda owns more than one jumper.

Right. Don’t judge a book by its cover.

* * *

**Afternoon**

* * *

A new card shows up on the home screen of her GameGirl. Some guy holding a floating flame in his outstretched hands. Every five seconds it rotates a full 360 degrees, revealing the black and white bear mask on the back. Every five rotations, however, the card face appears upside down. It flips upright again on the next rotation though.

There’s probably something significant about that. Cards with pictures on them… cards suddenly reversing themselves… she needs to research this. Maybe after she classmates with all seven girls of her harem game to create the ultimate army of star children.

“Nanami?” Their geometry teacher points to a tilted rectangle with a fat X in it drawn on the chalkboard. “Please prove to the class why triangle ABC = triangle CDE, given the fact that this shape is a parallelogram.”

Oh. Homework. Was she supposed to do that last night?

She drags herself to the front of the classroom. This again. Hadn’t Math-Sensei learned his lesson yesterday? She accepts the chalk from him and pauses in front of the board. A what? A parallelogram? What is that even? The triangles… look like they’re the same. Only flipped. The chalk nub rests against the black surface. Her mind is emptier than the board. How long can she stand her before Math-Sensei gives up on her? No, wait. Don’t test that. That’s what happened yesterday. Look how that turned out. She glances at her classmates. Ha. As if Sonia or Tsumiki would actually hold up poster boards for her with the answers scrawled all over them.

The classroom looks completely different from up here. Reversed, like that one card. Classmates she’s never noticed before from the back row are practically in her face. Not really, more like ten feet away. But she’s never had a reason to be so close to them before, and now here they are: Saionji, the quiet photographer, the wimpy cleaning partner from yesterday, and some guy wearing a scarf that appears to be moving on its own…

That guy’s purple scarf is _definitely_ moving on its own.

That guy’s holey purple scarf emits a low squeak.

She uses her chalk piece as an extended pointer finger to direct attention to his infested article of clothing. “Rats are eating your clothes.”

The guy folds his arms across his chest and releases the full force of his reiatsu. Chiaki flinches under the resulting blast of spiritual pressure. “Hmph. It is only by my mercy that the Four Dark Devas of Destruction do not unleash the full terrors of hell upon thy pitiful body. Slander their kind again and I cannot assure you that I, their loyal gatekeeper, will--”

“Tanaka,” Math-Sensei interrupts wearily, “please take Nanami’s place. Nanami, you may return to your seat, but see me after the lecture.”

Chiaki hesitantly hands off the chalk piece to the… oh yeah, the Ultimate Breeder. Tanaka’s scarf squeaks at her indignantly as they pass.

Geometry passes sooner than she expects. Probably because she’s focusing on her game for most of it. It’s kinda like a dating sim, except the right answers are so ridiculously obvious you’d have to be an ass not to choose them. Owari saves her butt when she flicks a paper pellet into Chiaki’s face--Math-Sensei has finished lecturing and is waiting for her at the teacher’s podium while everybody else gets started on homework during the last ten minutes of class.

Math-Sensei is flipping through his teacher’s tablet when she arrives. “Sensei?”

He swivels around on his stool and shows her his tablet. Quiz scores from the past two Fridays. They had quizzes? Two red zeros. Huh. She can’t even force an expression of surprise onto her face. “I can’t make you to study, Nanami, but you have shown zero comprehension of the course material thus far. Midterms are coming up in four weeks. Can I expect you to handle the coursework? Or do I need to sign you up for after-school remedial lessons?”

She doesn’t have to come to class, but at least she’s making the effort to be here. That’s what her mind retorts, but her mouth isn’t courageous enough to voice it. Instead, she simply nods. Probably for the better anyways. If she pissed off Math-Sensei, he probably _would_ sign her up for remedials. And the teacher would probably confiscate her GameGirl and phone. Then she wouldn’t be able to play video games with Hinata. Or tell the time. ...Not that she’s been able to tell the time anyways without the classroom’s analog clock, since every digital device she owns has been counting down to August 20th.

She should ask Hinata if he sees the same thing.

Maybe she could switch handhelds with Hinata and see if his device keeps the actual time.

In the meanwhile, she definitely needs to buy a watch. A non-digital watch.

“Nanami? Are you still with me?”

Nanami nods on autopilot. Math-Sensei looks very tired. He should practice taking naps while standing up. She’s perfected the art. She could probably demonstrate right now.

“Pass your quiz this Friday, alright?”

It sounds like a threat. She nods numbly anyways.

* * *

“The fuck are you doing?”

Chiaki’s scrubbing scorch marks off the teacher’s podium and is closest to the entrance when the Ultimate Yakuza slams the door open. For a terrifying second, she thinks Kuzuryu is screaming at her and she wants to sink into the floor.

Then from the back of the room, Pekoyama murmurs, “We agreed--”

“ _We_ didn’t agree to anything,” Kuzuryu fumes. “I don’t know you, a’ight? Stop acting like you owe me something!”

“Sounds like you have unfinished business, hmm?” Sensei plucks the bamboo broom from Pekoyama’s grasp and pushes the girl forward. “Go on, I’ll finish up for you.”

Pekoyama flinches--almost unnoticeably if Chiaki hadn’t been looking for any display of emotion in the normally stoic girl. “Yes, ma’am,” she finally acquiesces, moving for the exit. She pauses six feet from Kuzuryu. When Kuzuryu simply glares, Pekoyama continues walking until their shoulders meet. Kuzuryu stands strong; it’s Pekoyama who bends her torso to his will in order to pass by and out of the classroom.

Hidden meanings. Like the cards on her GameGirl. Interesting.

“Nanami!” chirps Sensei. “The trash bin is getting rather full. Would you mind taking it out to the incinerator?”

She glances down at the barely cleaned podium, then at the half-empty trash bin. “Um…”

Sensei ups the brightness of her smile. It’s blinding. “If you take out the recycling as well, you’ll have enough material for one productive trip!” She practically flash-steps before Chiaki and pokes the muscle of her arm. “It might be a little too much for you, I think we both can admit, but I betcha if you get started on it quickly enough, a certain guardian angel might be around to help you sort through everything!”

Chiaki hardly knows what Sensei’s talking about until she’s practically shoved out the door with three small bags of trash and two bins of unsorted recyclables. She barely avoids crashing into the windows across the hallway with her load when a dark and ridiculously fast shadow intercepts her.

“Oh,” Chiaki mumbles into Pekoyama’s chest. “She was talking about you.”

“So I heard,” Pekoyama replies dryly. This close to her, Chiaki detects a slight timbre of humor in her voice. So she does have a heart.

Whoops, did she say that out loud?

“My heart belongs solely to the young master,” Pekoyama says, again with that same wry tone, “but if it frees him from this school-sanctioned busywork sooner, then I will lend you my aid.”

She kneels next to the recycling bins, one hand on her shinai as if she’s about to quick-draw. When she closes her eyes and appears to enter some kind of zen-like state, Nanami cautiously takes a step back. Just in case.

_Zwoop!_

In a blur of arms and even a whack of her shinai, Pekoyama neatly sorts all the aluminum cans, plastic bottles, sheets of paper, and cardboard into neat little stacks. Even the trash bags flutter in the breezy aftermath of having their recyclables removed in lightning speed. She rolls back onto her heels and boosts herself to her feet shortly thereafter. “I’ll recycle,” she instructs. “You head to the incinerator.”

Chiaki shakily takes the trash bags. “How…?”

“Why question the efficiency of a can opener? Why wonder what a radio thinks as it captures electromagnetic waves and converts them into sound?” Pekoyama kicks up one, then the second recycling bin with such grace and precision that when she snatches them from midair, none of the delicate piles within are disturbed. “I was created for no other purpose than to carry out the will of my young master. That is all you need to know.”

She’s already walking away when Chiaki manages to spit out a couple words. “He’s lucky to have you either way.”

Her voice is so quiet, she wouldn’t have been able to tell if Pekoyama had even heard her had not the grey-haired girl paused for a millisecond. Almost unnoticeable if Chiaki hadn’t been looking for an emotional reaction.

_+1 Hope Fragment: Hermit!_

* * *

**Evening**

* * *

Somebody’s waiting for her outside the school building. It’s not Hinata. For half a second, she thinks maybe she should breeze on by--after all, she has a date with a fellow gamer--but then she remembers that _other_ guy. The other unremarkable one whose face she can barely remember, whose only defining characteristic had been the size of his ahoge. And his super popular pop idol companion.

Mr. Ahoge had been looking for her, so she turns on a dime and (quietly) says, “Kirigiri.”

The Ultimate Detective somehow hears, despite standing over forty feet away and browsing her phone too. She looks up at the sound of her name, then nods quietly and stores her phone in her jacket. “Nanami.”

“Um.” She waits until the detective steps out of the shadows. Yep, this is definitely the one Mr. Ahoge was looking for. Purple hair, purple gloves, answers to Kirigiri… “Do you know a guy… um… kinda looks like…” _...no one_. She settles for pantomiming a cowlick of hair sticking straight out the top of her head like a lightning rod.

A fond grin flits onto Kirigiri’s lips before it dissipates. Chiaki’s heart flutters a little anyways.

“So you’ve met Naegi,” says Kirigiri. “Who was he with?”

Maybe the girl is so blatantly truthful that what’s on the outside might really be what’s on the inside… maybe. This girl is infinitely more airtight than Pekoyama; Chiaki can’t get a read on Kirigiri at all, other than what’s displayed superficially. Either way, Chiaki wants to trust the detective, so she runs with it.

“A really pretty girl with blue hair.” She thinks for a moment. “Kinda felt fake though. Her face. Not the blue hair.” She actually jumps when the memory hits her. The television, the music videos, the magazines, the catchy beats and album covers… no way. “Sayaka Maizono?”

Kirigiri nods. “They went to the same middle school.”

“But… with _him_?” No wonder she can’t remember his face. Anybody would pale in comparison to somebody so famous.

Kirigiri starts walking. Chiaki follows slowly. They’re headed to the central fountain, at least. Chiaki will just have to remind herself to stop at the fountain instead of heading off into unknown territory. Then again, she never would have met Hinata if not for yesterday’s mishap… Well, never mind that. If Hinata’s finished cleaning up his classroom before her, he’ll be sure to snag her at the fountain. Perfect!

“Are you sure,” Kirigiri asks, “Naegi isn’t the one you should be looking out for?”

Chiaki pauses. For just a second, Kirigiri’s airtight persona slipped--or she let it slip--or whatever. There’s just a hint of hidden meaning to what Kirigiri just said. “Naegi… who?”

“Makoto Naegi might be looking for me,” says Kirigiri, “but make sure you don’t lose sight of him either.”

They’re approaching the central fountain now, so Chiaki doesn’t have much time to mull over this cryptic warning. The water glows gold in the dying light of the sunset as it plummets from the fountain spout, sinking cherry blossom petals that valiantly attempt to rise back to the surface. She catches sight of Hinata’s signature ahoge. There’s somebody else with him as well, though, an elderly man with hair aged silver.

“Advisor Tengan,” Kirigiri greets politely as they round the fountain.

“Hm?” Even with his back permanently hunched and his legs slightly askew, the elder glances at them with quick, sharp eyes. Chiaki suppresses the warning flags in her mind and bows respectfully. “Ah, Ms. Kirigiri. It’s quite rare to see you come so willingly into your father’s domain.”

“Private investigation,” Kirigiri replies. “Personal matters. And you, sir?”

“Oh, me? I’m just an old man visiting his ol’ stompin’ grounds. Ultimates like us who’ve reached the end of our lives have to stop sometimes and smell the sakura blossoms, eh?”

Kirigiri nods stiffly. Chiaki can’t even right now. If Tanaka’s spiritual pressure was enough to elicit a physical reaction out of Chiaki, she can’t even begin to describe what’s going down between Kirigiri and Tengan. She feels like a penguin amid crashing icebergs. She feels like a sapling attempting to lay down roots atop shifting tectonic plates. Something’s going on--she caught keywords like _father_ and _ol’ stomping grounds_ and _end of our lives_ , but her RAM is overloaded and her processing speed is next to zero currently.

Mr. Tengan rises from the bench with some difficulty. “There is no shame in being talentless, young Hajime; remember that. Good evening, Ms. Nanami. Ms. Kirigiri, won’t you walk an old man back to his car?”

Kirigiri takes Mr. Tengan’s arm. She glances back at Chiaki briefly over her shoulder, just long enough to mouth _Remember_.

She watches them go for a long moment. Like penguins, or saplings, of motes of dust… she and Hinata had been thoroughly ignored up until the very end. Plus she didn’t miss the way Mr. Tengan addressed Hinata without any honorifics or respect. “That was weird,” she says, taking Mr. Tengan’s former spot. It’s already gone cold. Old guy must not have a very warm butt. She keeps these observations to herself.

Hinata moves as if slowly breaking free from an frozen case. She can imagine the shards of ice tinkling around him as warmth pulses back into his limbs. “Tell me about it,” he says. “He just walked up to talentless ol’ me, and the first thing he said…”

When he doesn’t follow up for a good ten seconds, Chiaki switches topics. More important things to talk about, after all! “Did you find your copy of _Gala Omega_?”

“...Uh…” Hinata sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry. To be honest, I haven’t touched that game since elementary school…”

“That you were even playing retro games like _Gala Omega_ back in elementary earns you points in my book. So pick your poison: timed race, max score shooter, or deadly obstacle course survival?”

Seventeen victories later, Hinata slumps against her. “I give up,” he groans. “You win.”

She blushes a little at the sensation of warm muscle pressed up against her shoulder. “I wasn’t playing to win,” she mumbles.

“That just makes it worse…”

He leaves his screen of his handheld blinking black and red-- _GAME OVER_ \--again and again. He lifts his face into the warm sunset, eyes closed, still pressed against her. She wonders if he’s fallen asleep for a second. She has plenty of experience there. This twilit situation seems set up for a cozy nap against another warm body. His shoulder is in perfect pillow position--

“Say, Nanami?”

Her head jerks up just in time to avoid clunking against his shoulder. “Um. Yeah?”

“Have you ever lost a game?”

That’s an easy question. “Yeah. Plenty of them. How d’ya think I got so good?”

“But… have you ever failed so badly even when it wasn’t your fault? Just because you didn’t know how the game was played… or you started with basic stats. And every time you pick yourself back up and try to improve yourself, somebody with more experience comes back and tells you to stay down.”

His voice wavers just a little at the end. He pulls away from her, his face now cast downward, and the dying sun casts dark shadows across his eyes. The situation has suddenly gotten about three hundred times more complicated. She bites back on her gut response of _we call them trolls and you learn to ignore them_ , because what if there’s some hidden meaning she isn’t seeing? What kind of games is he talking about? Are they still playing a free-for-all melee or have they switched to a co-op shooter? Or is he even talking about games anymore?

“You only lost seventeen times in a row ‘cause your focus is all over the place.” She tilts her head and tries to catch his eyes without success. “Are you feeling alright, Hinata?”

A loud _CRACK_ drowns out his response. Chiaki moves to cover Hinata, not that she does much to shield him from the the water droplets spluttering from the shattered top tier of the fountain. A baseball plops down through the crack into the second tier, sections of its cowhide still smouldering from the kinetic friction of its flight.

“Oh shit. _Oh shit._ Makoto, we gotta run!”

“Hold on, Leon, your baseball… oh fine, I’ll catch up with you-- _after I get rid of your incriminating evidence!_ ” Mr. Ahoge jogs around the fountain seconds later, baseball mitt in one hand. He freezes at the sight of the two of them. “Um. Hello. It seems we have witnesses… haha?”

He’s exactly as she remembers him: utterly unremarkable save for the untameable monster cowlick pointing straight up from his head of hair. No school uniform on him, just a full black suit. Very tightly fitted, at that. The suit looks like it’d explode at the seams with any sort of physical activity; it’s totally at odds with the baseball mitt. “Makoto Naegi?”

“Hm? Have we met…? Oh, I remember you from yesterday.” He smiles at Hinata. “I like your hair.”

While a flustered Hinata tries to tame his ahoge, Chiaki asks, “Where’s your friend?”

“Sayaka?” Naegi’s expression dims. “I was helping her get through a rough patch yesterday. I think she’s okay now. I mean, I guess I’ll never know, but I’d like to hope she’s back to having fun with her band.”

First name basis with a pop idol sensation. Wow.

Naegi’s energy bobs back up to 90% again when he exclaims, “Is that _Crash Bandicoot_?”

Yes, she did bring two cartridges of the game. They’re currently sitting in her backpack. How he managed to spot them through the partially opened zipper in the fading daylight, she’ll never know, but she eagerly jumps on the opportunity. “Original edition. Wanna play?”

His eyes flash gleefully. “Can I?”

She hands him her handheld, but Hinata gets there first. “I don’t feel much like playing anymore,” he admits.

“You sure?” Naegi holds the PlaystaxionVida like he’s a pro. “I don’t mean to crash your date…”

“It’s not a date,” she and Hinata say in perfect synch. Hinata sounds a lot more panicked than her monotone, which brings some heat to her cheeks. Does he have to sound so disgruntled?

Naegi grins. “If you say so. Prepare to get smoked. I used to race in my _sleep_ back in middle school.”

He asks for a rematch.

Then another one.

Then, with one final burst of indignancy, Naegi proposes an underworld grand prix.

Her brow furrows. “Underworld?”

Naegi tosses Hinata’s PlaystaxionVida into the air. When he catches it again, he’s holding it upside down. “Like this,” he smirks. “Think you can do it?”

She wouldn’t have earned the title of Ultimate Gamer if she hadn’t the mind to constantly try new things. Still, even though it’s not like she hasn’t tried this before, there were never any competitions held nor no high scores praised for play styles like this, so… “Prepare to die,” she challenges.

It’s close.

She doesn’t even come close to lapping him at all this time.

“Damn,” Naegi laughs. “ _Dayum._ Just who are you anyways? With my luck, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were--”

She smiles. “Chiaki Nanami.”

“The Ultimate Gamer,” Hinata finishes.

Naegi freezes. He glances between the two of them, searching for sarcasm and finding none. He slumps back against bench; his fitted shirt shows absolutely no belly fat underneath. What does this guy eat, sunlight and water? “Always somebody better,” he laughs carefreely.

“You almost got me,” she says, “with that underworld thing.”

“Right?” Naegi perks up. “Sometimes if you feel like you aren’t getting anywhere in life, it helps to look at things from a different perspective. Flip things up, try something new. There’s always a spark of hope even when you’re surrounded by darkness.”

He abruptly stiffens and his gaze flicks up to the space above Hinata’s head. Chiaki follows his gaze but can’t see anything in particular. Or see much of anything, period; it’s getting pretty late. Her stomach woefully confirms this with a rumble.

“Hey, you guys wanna grab dinner?” says Naegi, trying (and failing) to inconspicuously remove the still-smoking baseball from the fountain basin. “I’ve heard of this _Ultimate Mega Beef Bowl Challenge_ at a local Chinese diner. If you finish the entire thing, the bowl is free. Wanna try?”

3000 yen later, the three of them don’t even come close to seeing the rice, much less the bottom of the bowl.

At least she has enough beef and rice to fill her bento for the next four days.

_The Ultimate Mega Beef Bowl takes Empathy to accept it as a whole, Knowledge to set the proper pace, Courage to attack the mountain of meat, and Expression to keep on eating. All these skills are necessary to finish off the ULTIMATE MEGA BEEF BOWL!!! (+0.5 levels to all social qualities!)_

_+1 Hope Fragment: Star!_

* * *

**Night**

* * *

_“Oh. I’m back.”_

_Chiaki rolls over in bed, careful not to put pressure on her stomach. Even several hours later, she has more than enough undigested beef in her gut to vomit up a fully-grown adult cow. She wouldn’t be surprised if a portal to the Meat Dimension had been hidden in that bowl. She’ll never look at beef the same way again._

_Her room is pitch black. She lifts her feet out of bed and rests them on what might be the floor. It’s too dark to see. Did the streetlight outside her dorm room go out? Even so, Hope’s Peak sits at the center of a sprawling metropolis; there’s always enough light pollution to illuminate even the most basic of shapes. This is ultimate darkness._

_“Hello?” she calls._

_“Oh. You’re here too?” Chains rattle ominously. “And here I thought I’d be all alone. Isn’t it a relief knowing there’s Hope in hell as well?”_

_She blinks. She has no clue what this guy is talking about. “What’s your name?”_

_Silence. Then the unnerving clink of chains, closer this time. “I’m not sure I remember, actually. Mako… Nae… Komae… Eh, whatever. It doesn’t matter. You can just call me Luck. Wheel of Fortune. Fate.”_

_Unsettled, Chiaki casts around for her phone’s flashlight. It should be on the bedside table… no matter where she puts her hand, though, all she grabs is nothingness. The only thing of any solidity is her own body and the… surface underneath her butt. It’s not even her bed anymore, just a flat ledge._

_“Where am I?” she cries. “Fate, where are we?”_

_Sounds of clinking metal crash around her head. The frozen chain wrapped around Fate’s neck slithers down her back. Fate’s clammy hands grasp her shoulders. Fate’s smiling, cold lips brush against the shell of her ear._

_“The deeper and darker the pits of Despair… the brighter and more powerful the Hope born from it.”_

* * *

**Chiaki Nanami’s Social Qualities**

Empathy: basic (level 1.5)  
Expression: rough (level 1)  
Knowledge: clueless (level 0.5)  
Courage: wallflower (level 0.5)

**Chiaki Nanami's Major Arcana**

0\. Fool..................★☆☆☆☆..... Hajime Hinata  
I. Magician............☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Kazuichi Souda~~ (locked, advance Sonia first)  
II. Priestess...........★☆☆☆☆..... Mikan Tsumiki  
III. Empress..........★☆☆☆☆..... Sonia Nevermind  
IV. Emperor...........☆☆☆☆☆.... ?????  
V. Hierophant........☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
VI. Lovers.............☆☆☆☆☆..... Akane Owari  
VII. Chariot...........☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu~~ (locked, advance Pekoyama first)  
VIII. Justice...........☆☆☆☆☆.... ?????  
IX. Hermit.............★☆☆☆☆..... Peko Pekoyama  
X. Fortune.............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XI. Strength..........☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XII. Hanged Man....☆☆☆☆☆..... Kyoko Kirigiri  
XIII. Death............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XIV. Temperance....☆☆☆☆☆..... Ibuki Mioda  
XV. Devil...............☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Teruteru Hanamura~~ (locked, advance Owari first)  
XVI. Tower.............☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Hiyoko Saionji~~ (locked, advance Tsumiki first)  
XVII. Star..............★☆☆☆☆..... ~~Makoto Naegi~~ (locked, advance Kirigiri first)  
XVIII. Moon...........☆☆☆☆☆..... Gundham Tanaka  
XIX. Sun................☆☆☆☆☆..... Yukizome-Sensei  
XX. Judgement.......☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Izuru Kamukura~~ (locked, automatic with story progression)  
XXI. World.............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s a wrap, dear readers! Introductions are officially over and requests are now open! Comment with the friendships you want to build with Chiaki and I’ll get started writing them. Chiaki already has a Hope Fragment in five of the six friend trees (aka groups of people whose storylines advance together): Hinata, Tsumiki, Sonia, Pekoyama, and Naegi. For the sixth friend tree, I’d suggest starting with Owari.
> 
> This is also the part where I try something new: rapid-fire chapters, each a couple hundred words long and devoted to individual characters, instead of day-long chapters. I’m used to writing long-ass chapters and it’s low-key stressful, so this is an attempt to keep things fun… especially since I’m splitting my writing time with another long-ass story in the Boku no Hero Academia fandom. Though I’m concerned with keeping continuity through lots of little chapters. Plus I gave Chiaki 100 days to get her shit together, and if I split each of those days in morning/lunch/afternoon/evening/night, that’s like 500 chapters O_O… Eh. We’ll get there when we get there.
> 
> The beef bowl stat boost is cut-and-pasted straight from _Persona 4: the Animation_ \- it’s a joke guys, don’t request for Chiaki to eat at Aiya’s with Hinata and Naegi every day T_T


	3. 98 decimeters per second

**Wednesday Morning**

* * *

If Chiaki thought she had it bad--dressing in three layers plus a scarf in the middle of May and jumping at anything remotely resembling a metallic jingle or clank--then Sonia is something else.

Chiaki’s a little busy with her PlaystaxionVida underworld run to notice at first. She’s running through every platformer, every racer, every real-time strategy game she’s ever owned and playing them upside down, just to get a feel for reversed directions. She _does_ hear the telltale rat squeaks in Tanaka’s scarf as Sonia nears, then the harsh scrape of desk feet grating across hardwood as its occupant abruptly sits up to attention.

“Hark! The fragrance of death looms above you.”

“Good morning, Tanaka,” Sonia says. “And good morning to your Destructive Divas of Darkness.”

“ _Devas._ Dark _Devas_ of Destruction.”

“Oh. My apologies.”

“Eyyy, princess!” Mioda chirrups. “Love the style! Y’know, if ya want, Ibuki can totally teachya how to tie ‘em up in demon horns…”

Sonia forces a laugh. “That will not be necessary.”

The speck of unhappiness in Sonia’s usually warm tone forces Chiaki to sneak a peek, and _whoa_. Sonia’s knee-length hair is no longer; it has instead been loosely french-braided with the ends pulled low into a carefully messy bun. It looks a hundred times more manageable. But also looks like it took a hundred hours to style.

“Morning, Sonia,” she murmurs. “I like the new look. ...I guess.”

“Um. Thank you? Oh, have you found Tanaka’s fashion sense to be of good taste?”

Jacket, check. Long coat, check. Boots, check. Face hidden behind scarf, check. “No.”

Sonia looks disappointed for some reason.

Mioda raps out a beat against the metal leg of her desk with her pen-- _clink-clink-clink_ \--and Chiaki breaks out into a cold sweat.

A cool hand rests against her forehead. Sonia has shifted into Souda’s desk and leans in with no small amount of concern. Her brow furrows in confusion. “Your temperature is within normal limits,” she murmurs, “but you are very pale, Nanami.” The hand moves down to cup her cheek. “Are you feeling alright?”

Chiaki nods on autopilot. Sonia opens her mouth to refute the claim… until Chiaki catches a whiff of what Tanaka referenced earlier. Is that… burnt hair?

And leeks?

Sonia snaps her mouth shut and slides back into her seat. ...Conversation closed? Chiaki slumps back and actively attempts to hide behind her PlaystaxionVida. Ah, embarrassment, good to see you again.

* * *

“Kazuichi Souda?” Yukizome-Sensei thoughtfully taps the end of her electronic pen against her teacher’s tablet. _Clink-clink, clink-clink._ “Anybody seen him?”

Oh. That’s what’s been wrong about today. No daily dose of blindingly bright pink hair in her peripherals. No skinny blue jumper to hide behind. She has clear sights of Yukizome-Sensei behind the podium. Even worse, Sensei has clear sights of her and can’t even pretend like she doesn’t notice Chiaki’s handhelds anymore.

Without pausing in morning announcements, Sensei smiles and mimes sliding her tablet into her podium’s storage space. Chiaki complies.

…

……

Sonia’s hairdo is really pretty. There is a _lot_ of hair bunched up on her head, though. Lots of little loose hairs poking out everywhere. Each of the little loose ends vibrates every time she moves, frantically transcribing every word that falls from Sensei’s mouth.

How long did the hair take? Did Sonia accomplish the massive hairdo all by herself? How early would she have had to wake up to get it all done before classes? It’s a good thing students of the main course live on campus; Chiaki can’t imagine having to wake up a good hour earlier to catch the subway and walk to classes like Hinata and the rest of the reserve course students have to do. Every day. An hour less of sleep. That would cut an hour out of her video game time. Though it’d probably end up cutting into her sleep time. And then she’d take more naps during class.

Naps are great.

…

……

The Ultimate Team Manager sits directly to her right. How on earth did she never notice his mountainous form? The pencil pinched between his massive fingers is poised to snap any minute. Why doesn’t he use a pen?

Her question is answered within the next moment when he flips the pencil 180 degrees using just his paw. With more precision than should be possible, he uses the microscopic pencil eraser to rub out a mistake on what looks like a massive spreadsheet.

Using that same magical one-handed motion, the Team Manager flips his pencil and inscribes names in elegant kanji: unremarkably normal names under group headings like _Kiss My Ace_ and _Victorious Secret_ and _Ball Whisperers_. Then he proceeds to arrange all those ridiculous titles into neat squares within what is quickly resembling a packed timetable.

It’s only when he flips the large spreadsheet over that Chiaki realizes that was his _nighttime_ schedule. The other side contains even more tiny squares for his post-school, pre-dinner activities. It’s even labeled at the top: _Nekomaru Nidai’s Weekly Schedule._

“Wanna join?”

Nidai’s rumbled whisper is so low, she more _feels_ his words than actually hears them. So should the rest of the class, but nobody reacts--maybe they’ve all gotten used to it?

She shrugs.

Nidai returns to organizing his timetable. “If you’re looking to get into after school sports, try the swim club. They’re trying to recruit as many Ultimates as possible before opening the club up to reserve students.”

She shrugs again.

She blinks sleepily.

…

……

To the right of Souda’s empty desk, Owari finishes folding a tiny paper crane. She pulls a needle and thread from her desk space, adds the origami crane onto the string, stashes everything back into storage, and starts on another square of paper.

On the left, Mioda might be composing, if the sheet of paper covered in illegible black scribbles is any indication. She might be dying from rabies; froth dribbles between her lips as she silently rocks her head to the beat, both ears plugged by noise-isolating earbuds.

Does anybody pay attention in this class?

Chiaki glances pointedly at Sensei.

Sensei manages to convey a brilliant smile even while her lips are moving. Something about a board of directors coming to visit the new campus, including the reserve course building. A personal request from the headmaster and campus security to prohibit reserve course student access to the main building during this visitation time. An allowance to allow students of both courses to intermingle if necessary, but a warning for all main course students to only enter the reserve course building for school-sanctioned activities.

“Yes, Nanami?”

Chiaki startles. Then she curiously stares at the raised arm protruding from her shoulder. That’s her arm. It’s raised.

Sensei clasps her hands in concern. “Nanami?”

“Can we…” she blurts. No, wait. Hold up. She needs to put her sentence together first. Her gaze drifts to Nidai’s spreadsheet. Didn’t he say some sports teams could recruit reserve course students? Did that count? If the swim team ended up having to recruit from both the main and reserve course, did that mean they could only use the pool in the reserve course building? “…wait outside the reserve course building without permission?”

Sensei smiles sadly. “No need to send in a school request to wait outside for friends.”

* * *

**Lunch**

* * *

“Wake up and smell the food!”

“What’s this about food?”

“Eat your own lunch, Akane. Ibuki just wanted to check something out.”

Chiaki blinks sleepily. There is unnaturally colored hair before her. Nothing new, though neon blue and electric purple are a little easier on the eyes than hot pink. A snot bubble pops as she pushes her face off the desk--gross--and she rubs her eyes and yawns as she slowly returns to consciousness.

“Ohmigosh you are so adorbs when you do that, Chiaki,” Mioda croons, seated in Souda’s usual spot. “Ibuki wishes she could have Snapchatted that. Do it again for the Vine?”

“What are those?”

“Never mind that, Chiaki. Can Ibuki see your phone?”

Chiaki blinks. First name already? Who is this girl? She hands over the device somewhat unwillingly. Mioda snatches it up and squints hard. “Huh. Owari, Ibuki’s not seeing anything funky. Looks like a normal time to her.”

That snaps Chiaki to attention. She seizes her phone, eager for a return to normal.

_98:11:50, 20 August._

She glances curiously at Owari, who is currently inhaling two cups of instant ramen. Simultaneously. When she’s done, Chiaki taps the girl on the shoulder. “What’s the time?”

Owari glances down at the offered phone, her brow knitting in confusion. “Is this a trick question?” When Chiaki shakes her head, she answers, “12:10, 14 May.” A pause. “Weird. I thought for a moment earlier that your time was all screwy.”

Chiaki digs her Nantendo GameGirl out of storage. Then, for good measure, she follows up with her PlaystaxionVida. To her eyes, they all have the same countdown: _98:11:48, 20 August._

“12:12, 14 May.” Owari peers up at Chiaki expectantly. “Out with it. You actually wanted me to see screwy time?”

Chiaki freezes.

Owari laughs boisterously, folding her arms across her ample chest. “You don’t have to tell me what you want, I already know. I have seven younger siblings, after all.” She scrunches up her brow in an expression Chiaki can already tell is her _thinking really hard_  pose. “All I saw was an extra number, but it’s gone now.”

“You sure you just weren’t seeing hours:minutes:seconds?” Mioda asks, swinging her leg over so she’s straddling the chair backward. She apparently doesn’t care about the private panty flash she’s giving Chiaki as she plucks the GameGirl from Chiaki’s hand.

Mioda is wearing a wristwatch, Chiaki notices right away. (There are also musical notes all over her electric blue panties.) The wristwatch actually has hands, not digital numbers. The wristwatch doesn’t show 98 days; it can’t show days at all. Excitement arrives on Chiaki’s expression long before words can conglomerate into sentences in her mind.

Owari can read minds. Maybe. “Watches can’t tell you seconds.”

Mioda laughs as she plunks the GameGirl back onto Chiaki’s desk. “Then what’s the second hand for?”

“That’s not what I was sayin’! Clocks don’t give you hard numbers. Like if someone asks you for the time, a clock with hands never point to the right time. It always points to the future. If you’re looking for seconds, Nanami, all a watch will tell you is how many seconds you’ve been staring at the clock, trying to catch moments you’ll never get back.”

“Owari, that’s really poetic.” Mioda scribbles down some keywords in messy chicken-scratch, then frowns. “Though it doesn’t make any sense.”

Chiaki takes the opportunity to speak the question she’s been composing for the past minute in the moment Owari pauses to formulate a comeback. “Where did you buy that watch?”

“Oh? Did you want one?” A grin spreads slowly across Mioda’s countenance. “Ey! Let Ibuki take you to her favorite store! We can choose the perfect one for you then!”

* * *

**Afternoon**

* * *

Math-Sensei calls her up again.

If he thought he could humiliate her into studying instead of accustoming herself to underworld _Street Fighter_ , he’s got another one coming. Chiaki internalizes all her embarrassment anyway; every emotion is buried underneath a blank, empty stare and only surfaces once in a blue moon. She’s a gazing, unblinking professional. When she isn’t actively peering into the nothingness of space and time, she finds falling asleep a great way to pass the awkward silences.

Hanamura’s eyes bore into her back, almost begging her to draw something lewd on the board. Math-Sensei would probably stop calling her up if she did that. She’d definitely get detention, though. She doesn’t even know what she’d draw. Maybe Mioda’s panties? She could settle for musical notes.

Remedial classes or detention? They’re practically the same thing. She has no choice. It’s one or the other. That’s two hours of time she could be gaming. She’ll probably take those two hours out of her sleep time. She’ll be more tired the next morning and take more naps in class. It’s a vicious cycle, but it’s her talent. It’s why she’s even here in the first place. Who is Math-Sensei to judge her for exercising the ability that gained her entry into Hope’s Peak? Why can’t he understand that, if his students don’t devote time to honing their skill every second of the day, he won’t have a job teaching them? Does anybody at this school understand that?

“Sit down, Nanami.” He sounds so, so disappointed. She has to actively try not to care. “Koizumi, please show the class your work.”

Maybe Yukizome-Sensei will listen if she approaches her about the subject. Maybe Sensei can tell her why the headmaster forces them to take all these classes that don’t even apply to their ultimate skills.

* * *

_Whap!_

“Goddamn, do you even sleep at night?”

“Not really,” Chiaki mumbles automatically. She rubs the swelling lump on her noggin and blinks at the paper fan held in Kuzuryu’s grip. Did he smack her over the head with that? How did it hurt so much?

“Fucking loser,” Kuzuryu spits. Mentally Chiaki flinches, though her body is much too slow to express the same fearful emotion. “Get up and start pulling your weight. I don’t care if Teach hasn’t arrived yet. We’re cleaning and then I’m getting the hell outta here.” He tosses the fan into the garbage and begins to sling chairs onto their corresponding desks so somebody can sweep underneath with a broom. “God _damn_ , how the fuck did I get a spineless shitstain and a comatose slacker as cleaning partners?”

Chiaki can only watch hesitantly as Kuzuryu storms down the aisles with such fury, she’s surprised he doesn’t lose grip of a chair and fling it through the window. Or into Mitarai, who’s listlessly wiping the same circle on a window. For such a small person, he has a surprising amount of strength.

“ _The hell do you think you’re doing?_ ”

She jumps. Mitarai startles too, almost falling off the desk he’s perched upon.

“Do I fucking have to do everything myself?” Kuzuryu marches to the supplies closet and almost spears Chiaki through the skull with a broom. Only her lightning-quick reflexes as a melee boxer against long-ranged ninjas saves her from a sudden lobotomy; she dodges out of her chair in a clumsy roll. “Get to work, you fuckin’ slug!”

“That is no way,” Yukizome-Sensei trills as the classroom door slams open, “to treat a fellow cleaning crew member.”

Chiaki’s never been so happy to see Sensei. Her presence is like a burst of sunshine through the ominous clouds Kuzuryu’s been casting around since he rudely roused her from her extended nap. She and Mitarai perk up as Sensei sheds her teacher’s jacket and dons her frilly apron.

“I'm the only one doing any work here,” Kuzuryu snarls. “All I see is a sleeper and a creeper.”

Mitarai stares at his feet immediately. Chiaki blinks slowly, surveying the emotional blush on the boy’s pale cheeks. Was… Had he been looking at her?

“Don’t forget the housekeeper!” Sensei chimes. “And what are you, Mr. Kuzuryu?”

“The fuckin’ repeater. I got places to go, things to do. Now get back to work!”

The classroom is cleaned to Sensei’s satisfaction in a record twenty minutes. Kuzuryu hightails it out the door the moment Sensei has cheerfully declared her approval. Mitarai follows just as quickly, his eyes glued to his feet the entire time. Chiaki finishes placing everything back in the cleaning closet.

“I suppose that since we’ve finished so early, Nanami,” Sensei chirps, “I’ll have quite a bit of time to chat. That is if you’d like to talk about anything, dear.”

Chiaki almost drops three spray bottles of cleaning solution. She carefully places them on a shelf before closing the door. Is she so easy to read? Probably not; even she’s aware that emotions generally take three times longer than normal to travel from her brain to her face. Maybe everybody’s turned telepathic today?

“I know that kind of look in your eyes,” Sensei replies on cue. “It’s a _I want to revolutionize the world!_ kind of look. When your closest--but totally platonic--soul-friend has worn it since graduation day, you don’t forget it. So tell me, Nanami: what are you trying to change?”

She wishes she could spill everything to Sensei. She wishes she could even grasp all the concepts she wants to communicate. But nothing comes to mind: none of the frustration towards Math-Sensei’s unyielding attempts to embarrass her in front of the entire class, none of the struggle of balancing her schedule to accommodate her talent. Instead, all she can do is open her mouth and blurt the first thing that lands on her tongue: "Sensei, why did you become a teacher?"

Sensei smiles gently. "And not a Housekeeper? That a very good question... and not one that I'm sure I have the answer to." She sits back in her chair and sighs at the ceiling. "Hmm... Can you believe my dream job used to be the Prime Minister's estate manager? I didn't see myself going anywhere else, not until I met... him. The soulmate I mentioned earlier." Her expression softens fondly. "His dream became my dream, only on a much smaller scale. I may not have very much power, but with whatever little strength I'm capable of, I'll do everything I can to boost and encourage the ones I love. In turn, they'll go out into the great beyond and boost the ones they love, and as a whole humanity will keep accelerating forward. Maybe we'll even smash past terminal velocity and approach the speed of light. That's my dream: to do everything in my power--" she bops Chiaki on the nose, "--to help you succeed. So how can I encourage you today?"

“...I’m failing geometry.”

“Oh, Nanami...” Sensei pauses. “That’s not all, is it? Take the time you need.”

Chiaki presses her lips together. How to even…? She shakes her head. It’s too much effort to explain out loud. If only Sensei really had the telepathy necessary to parse the relevant information from the flurry of jumbled explanations in her brain.

“Well then, that's something easily remedied,” Sensei says primly. “Geometry, you say? I think I have just the solution…” She ducks behind her teacher’s podium, tinkering with unknown objects within. “What’s your favorite game?”

She doesn’t even have to think. _“Gala Omega._ ”

“Ooh, good one! That’s a classic. And very appropriate for the subject matter at hand, actually.” She emerges from behind her podium, tablet in hand, and pulls Nidai’s chair up to Chiaki’s desk. “Take a seat and prepare to be wowed. I hereby present  _Gala Omega Geometry!_ ”

Sensei pulls up a still image of the basic first-level course of _Gala Omega_ , complete with a level 1 dual-shot gunship and even rows of approaching opponents. With a finger, she draws two side-by-side lines from the gunship to an enemy. “So if your ship has had its first upgrade and is firing simultaneous laser beams that are consistently equidistant from its guns all the way to the slimezoid, we can say the laser beams are parallel. Got it?”

Chiaki nods. Makes sense.

“Okay, the fun part with all the fancy-pants theorem names comes when we draw enemy fire across your parallel lasers. A line going across parallels is called a transversal, see? And look at all the different angles the enemy’s transversal fire creates at the intersections, like these two alternate exterior angles. They look the same, right? If we know your gunship lasers are parallel, we can conclude these exterior angles are congruent. Congruent’s just a fancy-pants math term meaning they’re the same. And that’s the alternate exterior angle theorem!” Sensei finishes off with a flourish. “Ready for more?”

_+1 Hope Fragment: Sun!_

_+0.5 Knowledge!_

* * *

**Evening**

* * *

For the first time in a long while, Chiaki Nanami steps out of Hope’s Peak holding not a handheld but a sheet of paper covered in geometry drawings before her. Her muscles remember the path from the main building to the cafeteria (and student dorms), so she feels no need to track the route with her eyes and can focus on her notes.

Her route takes her past the central fountain. She’s hoping, just a little bit, when she glances up on her daily pass by said fountain, that Hinata is waiting for her. But after yesterday’s Ultimate Mega Beef Bowl she’d barely dragged herself home, never mind setting up future dates with the reserve student; the fountain is deserted. He could be still cleaning his class, but with recent school regulations, it’s not like she can enter the reserve building and ask around. Or maybe he’s already gone home for the day, in which case what point does she have waiting around in unfamiliar territory until dark?

She should have asked for his phone number after dinner last night.

Just thinking about the impossibility of eating the entire Ultimate Mega Beef Bowl makes her never want to look at a cow again. Nobody could ever eat that much beef. It’s ridiculous. She’d dismiss it as a cash grab, challenging foodies to pay 3000 yen for a simple beef bowl… except she’d put some beef in her bento for today’s lunch, and her initial estimates for leftovers has now been extended from 4 to 6 days. _That much beef._

Still… eating out with Hinata and Naegi had been very enjoyable. Even if eating out by herself would only be one-third as enjoyable, it would still be better than what she’s smelling from the cafeteria right now: beef stew.

Welp. Off-campus food it is.

...How?

Until yesterday, she’d never eaten anything that wasn’t from the cafeteria or the convenience store. She doesn’t even know where to go. Naegi had seemed very sure of where he was going; she and Hinata had only been along for the ride.

She’s google-searching reputable restaurants near campus on her phone when a _click_ attracts her attention. Her gaze snaps up and focuses on a camera lens about three feet away.

“Sorry,” the girl behind the camera apologizes. She doesn’t lower the camera. “You have incredible lighting right now. The sunset chiaroscuro behind your head, the glow of the phone’s screen on your face… I guess there’s no chance of you acting candid anymore?”

Chiaki stares in the depths of the camera’s soul. Eventually, a redhead emerges sheepishly from behind it.

“Guess that’s a _no_ then…” She tucks her camera into her bag. “‘Kay. See you tomorrow then, Nanami?”

“Who are you?”

“...You’re serious.”

She tries again. “I know you're in my class. What was your talent again?”

“Right… I take pictures of people. People apparently like them enough to nominate me as the Ultimate Photographer.” She props a hand on her hip. "Just admit it though. Two weeks of classes and dorm life and you don't even know my name."

Chiaki's dorm life consists of disappearing into her room to play games and sleep. She doesn't know of anybody else on her floor and doesn't really care. Nevertheless, the redhead is expecting an answer and Chiaki willingly gives it. "Nope."

The Ultimate Photographer shakes her head. "Nanami, how can you properly assume the role of a woman in a relationship if you can't even get past the introductory phase? We're room neighbors, so you'd better become acquainted with me. I'm Mahiru Koizumi, Ultimate Photographer! ...Pretty lame, right?"

Chiaki raises said handheld to demonstrate her similarly lame talent. Unfortunately, the thing in her hand is actually a sheet of paper filled with geometry theorems. Her handhelds are sitting in her backpack. She frowns, puzzled at this forgotten development. Why isn’t she gaming? Did Sensei hypnotize her into sacrificing gaming time for studying? What is she doing?

“Alright, I’ll leave you to studying,” Koizumi assumes. “Hiyoko says even she could make the beef soup they’re serving in the cafeteria, so we’re going to explore the shopping district to the south of campus. See you tomorrow!”

Shopping district to the south. That sounds like a good place to start. She travels southward until she hits the gated entrance to campus. It’s already locked for the night, but as long as she has her student ID she’ll be able to reenter academy grounds until 9 PM.

Once outside, she meanders aimlessly. Her eyes play tricks on her as the burnt orange sky fades into blue shadows; she thinks sees Pekoyama in a dark alleyway holding a very real-looking katana to a man's throat, but the alley is empty upon double take, so she mostly relies on following her nose from then on. Moldy trash? Avoid. Fried tonkatsu? Follow. In this manner, she finds herself before Aiya’s Chinese Diner within fifteen minutes.

Huh.

“As if Fate couldn’t be any more obvious,” murmurs a familiar voice.

Chiaki keeps her eyes affixed to the weekly deal advertised on a sandwich board sitting just outside the diner. On one hand, she has endless leftovers from coming here yesterday (plus if her wallet gets any lighter, it’s going to fly free from the earth’s gravitation pull). On the other hand, Detective Kirigiri stands just behind her.

But… not beef. Just... no beef.

She stalls. “So you’ve met him too?”

“Fate?” Is that a sigh in Kirigiri’s voice? “We’re still in negotiations.”

“Mmm.” The dreaded beef bowl taunts her from the sandwich board even as Kirigiri closes in from behind.

The back of Chiaki’s neck prickles red the moment Kirigiri’s breath ghosts across her skin. “Join me for dinner?”

She stumbles a few steps forward. The cozy heat of the diner abruptly envelops her. The door swings shut until Kirigiri brushes it aside, a slight blush rising in her cheeks as her body readjusts to the warmth. It’s hotter in the restaurant, almost uncomfortably so, and smells strongly of cooking grease and boiling broth. Kirigiri heads straight for the back, picking a booth in the corner that has a clear view of the entire restaurant.

This is also where Naegi and she and Hinata ate last night. Coincidence?

She peruses the menu briefly, quickly decides upon stirfried udon noodles, and spends a long minute discretely observing the detective before her. Despite claiming to be her underclasswoman, Kirigiri looks very mature. Maybe it’s the professional attire or the leather gloves. Maybe it’s just the way she carries herself that commands respect and awe. And the way she speaks, with a certain finality and truthfulness implying she’s experienced hell and has lived to conquer it again.

A gamer and a detective. They’re barely on the same level.

“Are you investigating the reserve course?” she asks quietly, setting her menu flat on the table.

Kirigiri mirrors her. “To an extent. You must know by now that my father is the headmaster of Hope’s Peak.”

Kyoko Kirigiri. Headmaster Kirigiri. Related. Fancy that.

“My father has dedicated his life to the perpetuation of the Academy for the past decade. He can be accredited to the program’s survival before it made a name for itself in producing Japan’s greatest young professionals, and now that the program is wildly successful with graduates holding positions of leadership all over the world, he remains deeply entrenched within its inner workings. I can assure you now that any action taken by Hope’s Peak Academy is a direct reflection of his will.” An emotionless waiter arrives to take their orders. When she leaves with the menus, Kirigiri folds her arms and leans ever so slightly onto the table. “I am not investigating the reserve course; not directly, anyways. I am calling into question why, after a decade of faithful adherence to the program’s core function of recruiting only super high-school-level specialties, the school has so abruptly shifted to permitting thousands of wealthy commoners into the fold.”

This feels slightly familiar--colored words floating through the space between her and Kirigiri, the sensation of firing _negation_ bullets into Kirigiri’s argument--as she shouts, _“You’ve got that wrong!”_

Kirigiri startles. So does half the restaurant.

“You’re wrong,” Chiaki repeats quietly. “Hinata’s family isn’t rich at all. He said he was only here because of some sort of special condition or agreement or something.”

For a second, Kirigiri looks disappointed at this nugget of information. She quickly smooths over that expression when a metallic chime rings from the restaurant entrance-- _ding ding--_ and a chillingly familiar voice travels across the diner.

“I thought I saw a friendly face!”

“Nagito Komaeda.” Kirigiri bows her head respectfully when one of Chiaki’s classmates shows up at their booth. The back of Nanami’s neck prickles for an entirely different reason this time.

Never mind his mirthful smile; his jade-colored eyes swirl emptily, gaining only a weak spark when, uninvited, he seats himself next to Chiaki. “I hope I’m not coming off as creepy,” Komaeda chirps, “but I kinda followed you here? I tripped over my own feet right in front of the school gate as it was locking and seem to have lost my school ID in the tumble. I’ve sorta been wandering around downtown for the past hour, looking for things to do. Hey, want a phone charm? When I tried to buy one of these cute little things with a quarter I found on the sidewalk, the vending machine door got stuck open and they all came pouring out.”

Each accessory has a bell attached. Each one jingles merrily as Komaeda deposits a large pile onto the table. The rattle of chains echoes within Chiaki's head long after the bells fall silent and she physically represses the urge to bolt. Neither she nor Kirigiri seem inclined to take one, instead regarding the accessories warily. They all seem to be lucky cat charms.

"Please take one. Or three. Or thirty," Komaeda pleads. "I only have one phone."

Neither of her companions questions her when she snaps all the bells off ten charms and deposits them in her backpack. Kirigiri takes half of the remaining. 

“Whew, I’m beat," Komaeda sighs, tucking the remainder back into his jacket pockets. "I think I hurt my ankle falling. If you want, I can wait on the bar stool over there instead of here? After all that walking and hobbling, I think a whole lot of sitting is in order. I just need somebody to help me... get back into... school…” Komaeda trails off as Kirigiri kneels at his feet. Her gloved hands slide around his ankles.

“Swollen,” Kirigiri pronounces, pressing her thumb into Komaeda’s left ankle. He winces, his hand subconsciously finding Chiaki’s and squeezing. She gasps; his skin is cold as if he’s been standing inside a freezer for an hour instead of outside on a chilly May evening. “Just a minor injury. But if you chased Nanami here all the way from campus, it’s already well on its way to a significant inflammatory reaction. We’ll need to ice it to bring the swelling down. Maybe an NSAID too.”

“NSAID?” Komaeda laughs shakily.

Kirigiri’s already moving towards the front desk. “Non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug. The restaurant probably has a bottle of buprofen lying around somewhere.”

Silence.

Komaeda’s fingers rest over hers. The hairs on the back of her head prickle in her unease. She can’t remember why she feels such discomfort around him, only that her body is trembling underneath three layers of clothing.

Komaeda snatches his hand away the moment the shivers travel from her torso down her arm. “Whoops. Sorry, zombie hands! I run at a lower temperature than most people are used to.” He laughs self-depreciatingly. “Honestly, I dunno if ice will even work on me…”

She hugs her chilled hand to her chest. “At least the medication will.”

Komaeda grins ruefully as Kirigiri returns with a bag of ice, some tape, and two small tablets. “We can only hope so.”

* * *

**Night**

* * *

_“Ohmigod, so this is totes unexpected.”_

_The Magician card dangles upside down from long fingernails painted blood red._

_“Upupupupu… Can’t be that hard to break.”_

* * *

**Chiaki Nanami’s Social Qualities**

Empathy: basic (level 1.5)  
Expression: rough (level 1)  
Knowledge: aware (level 1)  
Courage: wallflower (level 0.5)

**Chiaki Nanami's Major Arcana**

0\. Fool..................★☆☆☆☆..... Hajime Hinata  
I. Magician............☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Kazuichi Souda~~ (advance Sonia first)  
II. Priestess...........★☆☆☆☆..... Mikan Tsumiki  
III. Empress..........★☆☆☆☆..... Sonia Nevermind  
IV. Emperor...........☆☆☆☆☆.... Nekomaru Nidai   
V. Hierophant........☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
VI. Lovers.............☆☆☆☆☆..... Akane Owari  
VII. Chariot...........☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu~~ (advance Pekoyama first)  
VIII. Justice...........☆☆☆☆☆.... ?????  
IX. Hermit.............★☆☆☆☆..... Peko Pekoyama  
X. Fortune.............☆☆☆☆☆..... Nagito Komaeda  
XI. Strength..........☆☆☆☆☆.....  ~~Mahiru Koizumi~~ (advance Saionji first)  
XII. Hanged Man....☆☆☆☆☆..... Kyoko Kirigiri  
XIII. Death............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XIV. Temperance....☆☆☆☆☆..... Ibuki Mioda  
XV. Devil...............☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Teruteru Hanamura~~ (advance Owari first)  
XVI. Tower.............☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Hiyoko Saionji~~ (advance Tsumiki first)  
XVII. Star..............★☆☆☆☆..... ~~Makoto Naegi~~ (advance Kirigiri first)  
XVIII. Moon...........☆☆☆☆☆..... Gundham Tanaka  
XIX. Sun................★☆☆☆☆..... Yukizome-Sensei  
XX. Judgement.......☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Izuru Kamukura~~ (automatic with story progression)  
XXI. World.............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now introducing the concepts of reversed arcana! Some characters need more attention than others. If their relationship with Chiaki runs stagnant, their corresponding card will flip upside down, sıɥʇ ǝʞıן. Leaving them like that is fine, but ignoring the relationship for too long can have drastic consequences: should a certain antagonist spend enough time with the reversed classmate, their arcana will break. Classmates whose major arcana are broken (and the friendship tree they belong to) are permanently inaccessible to Chiaki. (Not even going to beat around the bush: Mikan Tsumiki is super needy. She'll reverse and break the quickest.)
> 
> If I ever get around to writing Persona Ronpa: Reversed Arc, you'll definitely get a heads-up on whom the antagonist is targeting next! 
> 
> AO3 keeps messing with my formatting - it keeps putting spaces around all _italicized_ phrases. I try to correct them during the editing process, but if you catch any that I missed, please let me know!


	4. 97 seconds to say hello, forever to say goodbye

**Thursday Morning**

* * *

She wakes minutes ahead of her phone alarm.

Granted, her alarm app is just as wonky as the phone it’s installed on. She has to set it according to the countdown’s timer - _97:17:30_ for today, _96:17:30_ for tomorrow, etc. _20 August_ is the same as always. Still, she’s been spending at least five hours a night exercising her talent. Beating her alarm clock two days in a row despite only four or five hours of sleep and without needing to snooze at least seven times is downright strange.

Her morning only gets stranger when Chiaki trots into the dormitory common room and comes face-to-face with none other than Kirigiri.

“How did you get in here?” she blurts.

Kirigiri smooths down her pencil skirt as she rises from a couch. “I live here.”

Short of stealing somebody else’s ID card, there’s no other way into the student dorms. Kirigiri wouldn’t do that, would she? Maybe she heard wrong. Maybe Kirigiri is actually an upperclasswoman. She certainly dresses like one. Fitted clothing that’s professional yet eye-catching. Her skirt is almost as short as Akane’s, yet she still commands the utmost respect.

“Why didn’t you…” She hesitates. Last night, after they’d dropped Komaeda off at the boys’ dorm, they’d said their goodnights and walked off in opposite directions.

Kirigiri nods in understanding, yet her reply is unsatisfactorily vague. “I had a gut instinct and followed through.” She turns towards the front entrance. “Shall we check up on Komaeda?”

Chiaki acquiesces, if only because classes doesn’t start for another forty minutes (not including the eight-minute commute by foot) and she’d rather avoid another awkward confrontation with Souda (should he choose to attend class today). As soon as the entrance to the female dormitories latches and locks shut behind her, she says, “We won’t be able to enter the boys’ dorms.”

“We don’t have to. Komaeda lives on the ground floor.”

How did she figure that one out? ...Unless she stuck around last night, looking for room lights that switched on. But that’s just… creepy and totally incongruous with what Chiaki knows of the detective.

“A good friend of mine is the Hall Monitor for the male residences,” explains Kirigiri patiently, stepping off the pathway leading up to the dorm entrance and treading over the lawn to the far end of the building. “An unwavering moral compass, truly. He provided me access to dorm room assignments on the trust that I would not abuse the information.”

She motions Chiaki closer to the window. Then she raps on the glass thrice with a knuckle, three solid knocks sure to alert anybody inside. After three long moments, a pale hand tosses the blackout curtains aside and Komaeda blinks at them in surprise but not the drowsiness of one recently awakened. The skin of his spindly shoulders and chest is ashen in the warm morning sunlight. His eyes are devoid of life for just a second--then a flicker of recognition sparks pale green life back into them and he murmurs a low “Hello” barely audible through the glass.

Chiaki motions for him to slide open the window. He complies, only barely cracking it open. Heat immediately wafts out of the slit in waves. What’s he doing, keeping a sauna in there?

“Morning,” she says.

“This is unexpected,” says Komaeda. “What business do two lovely ladies have to do with a loser like me?”

Kirigiri frowns disapprovingly. “Did you ice your ankle at all last night?”

“Nope. It made me cold, so I turned up the heat.”

“And the heat only precipitated your inflammation. How bad is it?”

“Well…” Komaeda taps a finger to his chin and stares listlessly into the sky. “I was going to call in a sick day.”

“It’s a slightly sprained ankle,” Kirigiri counters. “Easily remedied with crutches.”

“Which I don’t have,” laughs Komaeda. He quickly drops his hollow mirth when neither girl responds accordingly. “Nanami, you’ve been quiet. Tell me, dear classmate, is it so important for a nobody like me to accompany you to geometry?”

Nanami is too slow to visibly flinch at the unforeseen barb. It still stings. Her eyes wander to the next dorm over as she struggles to piece together a reply. The adjacent window is also separated from the rest of the bedroom by blackout curtains, but said curtains are barely visible through the adhesive decals applied to the inside of the glass--team logos, it seems, creatively designed to be aesthetically appealing despite ridiculous names like _Balls to the Wall_ and _Eat My Bubbles_ and _Victorious Secret._

She leaves Komaeda hanging as she takes three steps and knocks three times. The room’s occupant is significantly quicker and significantly larger, staring down at Chiaki with sweat pouring down his brow. He slides his window open all the way, assaulting her with the sensations of perspiration and tinny workout music blasting from an earbud recently pulled free.

“GOOD MORNING, NANAMI,” Nidai roars.

“Crutches. Do you have them?”

“WHAT?” He unplugs his other ear. “You’re going to have to speak up, Nanami. No other time like the top o’ the mornin’ to carpe diem at 100%!”

“Crutches,” she repeats, maybe half a decibel louder. “Komaeda needs them.”

“Eh? Why didn’t he say so?” He throws open his closet, plunges a massive arm into its depths, and pulls a pair of crutches into view. “Got a pair here for sports emergencies. Komaeda’s right next door, eh?”

Chiaki nods.

Nidai slings a sports jacket over one shoulder and nods in approval. “You’re a good woman, y’hear? Always important to take care of your teammates. We’ll see you in class soon.”

This really wasn’t her idea, but Nidai disappears before she can open her mouth. Quietly, she sidles back to Kirigiri’s side, looking slightly to Komaeda’s left.

“It seems your actions speak louder than words, Nanami,” Komaeda says softly. “I suppose stepping stones still need to be present and accounted for to ultimately serve their purpose.”

“Carpe diem: seize the present like the future is lost, Nagito Komaeda,” says Kirigiri. “Every day is a good day to be alive.”

_+1 Hope Fragment: Fortune!_

* * *

**Lunch**

* * *

 

The moment the lunch bell rings, Sonia rises from her seat.

“Princess Sonia!” Souda cries. “Please, if you’d let me...”

A blush creeps up Sonia’s neck and under her artfully messy bun as she pushes her chair back under her desk properly. Then she strides out the classroom, not too quickly but obviously distancing herself from the Ultimate Mechanic.

Saionji whips out her fan to conceal her whispers to Koizumi. Aside from that ostentatious action, nobody else appears to care for the distressed princess. Excluding Souda, of course. It’s only when Souda rises from his seat to give chase, however, that Chiaki snatches her knapsack off her desk hook and rockets to her feet. With a hand much heavier than its size gives it credit for, she slams Souda back into his chair and uses the boost to propel herself to the front row. She barely spares a backward glance at him, and then only because Tanaka’s scarf squeaks as she sweeps past. The expression on his face crushes her heart--agonized, hurt, exposed--but Sonia will be lost in the lunch rush for the cafeteria if Chiaki doesn’t get a move on, so she puts off explaining to Souda why pursuing the target of his affections when she’s so obviously fleeing from him is a horrible idea and flings herself into the hallway.

Where is Sonia? There are so many brown uniforms trudging slowly towards the stairwell; Chiaki isn’t exactly tall and can’t spot Sonia’s blonde head among the throng of students. She dives into the slow-moving stream, but any and all attempts to surge forward are rebuffed by larger bodies claiming their spot in the messy “line”.

“Tryna race me to the lunch line, Nanami?” Akane yells. “Hell if I let you get there first! Hell if I let _anyone_ get there first!”

Unfortunate bodies who have not yet experienced the validity of Akane’s threats are soon tossed into the ceiling panels, smashed against adjacent students, or trampled underfoot as Akane very literally mows down a path from the 77th Class’s room to the stairs. Out of some sort of classmate respect, however, Chiaki is untouched and merely passed by. She takes advantage of the cleared path left in Akane’s wake, sprinting past and over many cowering and groaning Ultimates of unknown talents until she reaches the stairwell.

Up or down?

On some fleeting gut instinct, she pushes her way upstream, gripping the railing for leverage and occasionally putting her head down and charging into descending legs and lower torsos. The crowd of students lessens the higher she travels until she no longer has to yank herself up to proceed forward. It’s quieter up here as well, so she calls, “Sonia?”

Even though no reply is forthcoming, Chiaki finds the Ultimate Princess on the highest floor, pushing fruitlessly against the locked door leading onto the roof.

“I don’t understand,” Sonia whispers, somewhat self-deprecatingly. “Every anime set within a high school lets its students retreat onto the rooftop for a quiet lunch.”

Lunch? Her eyes drift to Sonia’s hands. A sad, single protein bar is clenched within her fist.

“Maybe some schools are like that,” Chiaki says after a moment of contemplation. “But… I guess in real life it’s a suicide hazard or something? Plus one of the classes would have to then clean the rooftop, even during monsoon season… It would be really muddy. And possibly mossy. Probably worse than cleaning the toilets.”

“I suppose,” Sonia says wistfully. “I… just wanted somewhere peaceful. Isolated.”

The courtyard is getting crowded now that the weather is warmer. An empty classroom is probably the best place, like the band room or the auditorium. Unless the symphony or theater clubs are holding rehearsals in there. Honestly… “If you want to stick to anime stereotypes, you could hide in a bathroom stall.”

Sonia’s brow wrinkles in distaste. Then her entire face flushes red and she flinches behind Chiaki. Chiaki glances over her shoulder to spot Souda cautiously standing on the landing below.

Souda opens his mouth.

Carefully, hiding the gesture from Sonia, Chiaki winks.

Souda closes his mouth.

She’ll follow up. She’ll definitely talk to Souda later. Explain things, like why hard work and perseverance are the worst qualities to exercise in certain situations. But for now, she takes Sonia gently by the elbow and guides her down the stairs, leads her around Souda, and herds her into the nearest girl’s restroom. He can’t follow them in here, at least.

Sonia disappears into the closest stall. Chiaki stands outside awkwardly, wondering if she should leave or guard the entrance just in case, until, in an almost steady tone, Sonia calls, “Nanami?”

Chiaki slips into the cramped space and lets the backpack slide off her shoulders onto the floor. Sonia’s already seated on the water tank, so after locking the stall and ensuring the toilet remains off and no surprise!Cleansing Jets of Water are forthcoming, Chiaki settles sideways onto the seat and braces her feet against the wall.

And waits.

She’s in the middle of composing an imaginary thank you letter to the class on bathroom duty this month for their squeaky-clean efforts when Sonia finally collects herself and pulls out hairpin after hairpin from the depths of her messy bun until the curled braids unweave and cascade down her shoulders.

And stop just below her shoulder blades instead of tumbling to her knees. The burnt hair scent comes back too, fainter this time, but accompanied by the strange fragrance of soy sauce and leeks.

Chiaki places her hand over Sonia’s gently. “Oh, Sonia…”

Sonia half-laughs, half-sobs. “Did you notice? Look at me.”

She forces herself to inspect Sonia’s face. High cheekbones create a slender, attractive face. Full red lips. Small button nose. Teal irises speckled with amber, like gold flickering at the bottom of a riverbed. And narrow eyebrows, perfectly shaped… she leans in, sharing oxygen with the blonde as she focuses her inspection.

Her eyebrows are also burnt.

They’re mostly penciled in.

Slightly leeky-smelling too.

Her hand moves up to cup Sonia’s cheek tenderly. “What happened?”

Sonia’s eyes flutter shut. “I only meant to buy the appropriate yakitori ingredients on Tuesday. I did not plan to actually cook the dish, but Souda enthusiastically insisted he had designed a cooking appliance specifically to prepare the chicken skewers. I should have realized it would be impossible to create a safe and effective machine within such a short time frame. I should have recognized the risks involved. I should not have conceded to his--”

Chiaki swivels so she’s straddling the toilet, then rises to her feet until their foreheads bump together. It’s a little jarring, but it politely shuts Sonia up mid-sentence.

“It’s not your fault,” she murmurs. “You deserve to be angry at Souda for what he did to your hair, but if you don’t want to then you’re a better person than most. But what happened still isn’t your fault.”

“As my country’s future--”

“This is Japan, not Novoselic. You’re not a princess here. We’re not your people. You’re our classmate, but you are only responsible for yourself. You don’t need to do anything more than that.”

Sonia leans into Chiaki needily. After a moment, she whispers, “Kazuichi Souda… I should not avoid him. Not like this. But… this situation is just a smaller instance of a problem that I cannot solve. I am… Nanami, I am so lost.”

What this other larger problem Sonia’s referring to, Chiaki doesn’t have a clue. But all the tension drains out from Sonia’s frame through their mutual point of contact and her quickened, nervous breathing synchronizes slowly to Chiaki’s calm inhale-exhale, so Chiaki figures it’s okay to switch topics. “Call me Chiaki.”

“What?” Sonia breaks contact, so Chiaki sinks down until she’s seated again.

Upon further thought, she snags her backpack and pulls out her lunch. “It’s not fair for all of us to call you by your personal name when you have to call us by our family names.” She opens her bento and offers clumsily rolled rice balls to Sonia. “So call me Chiaki. Since... we’re... friends.”

She tapers off to an almost-silence, unsure if she’s being presumptuous by associating herself with the Ultimate Princess after only calling her by name for all of three days.

Sonia plucks an onigiri and chews it thoughtfully. “Chiaki…” she tests.

“If we’re being informal with each other, try using _-chan_ instead of _-san._  Like, in those anime shows.” She pauses. “Unless... did you watch subbed or dubbed?”

Sonia blushes. “Both. English isn’t my first language either.”

They munch in silence for a little longer. Personally, Chiaki thinks she used too many fish flakes this time. It’s very fishy. Don’t most Westerners not like fish? She has an apology ready when Sonia opens her mouth.

“Can we cook together, Chiaki?”

Chiaki swallows her words. “Huh?”

“Let us cook something Japanese together during the weekend. Something easy. Something simple. Something that does not involve excessive amounts of fire and screaming.”

“I have never screamed before in my life.”

“Perfect.”

_+1 Hope Fragment: Empress!_

* * *

**Afternoon**

* * *

Sensei’s _flustered_.

Her high ponytail is a little more voluminous, a little more frazzled and wild as she slams a cheat sheet onto Chiaki’s desk before the last of her classmates have even evacuated the classroom. “I am _so_ sorry, Nanami! I received a call from my, my b-b-boss, about an hour ago calling me into an emergency meeting. Urgent matters concerning next week’s visitation protocol. The board of directors, remember?”

Sensei’s sentences are all over the place, hastily springing from her lips the moment the corresponding thought coalesces in her mind. Chiaki is no stranger to stuttering and pausing in the middle of her scripted words, but this is _Sensei_ , who can communicate entirely different messages with her body language without tripping up during morning announcements.

“I whipped up this geometry proofs table about fifteen minutes ago, so I apologize if things are a bit unorganized. Here, I moved all the diagrams to another sheet. And my personal video call number is down here at the bottom of the page. Please, _please_ call if you have any questions.” Sensei bows her head slightly as if forgetting just who is the teacher and student in this relationship. “I am so sorry for letting you down, Nanami. Passing tomorrow’s geometry quiz is important to you; it’s important to me that you succeed. Would you like to meet me in the teacher’s room tomorrow morning for a final crash course?”

“...Thank you,” Chiaki finally manages. “I’ll… I’ll let you know tonight.”

Sensei’s gone in a flash, leaving only echoes of a cheerful “Good luck!” in her wake.

Chiaki neatly folds Sensei’s cheat sheet into her notebook, tucks her notebook in her knapsack, and only then realizes that the classroom is awfully quiet.

There’s only one other person in the room. “Where’s Kuzuryu?” she asks Mitarai.

Mitarai chokes. He hides his face from her.

Um. She doesn’t bother figuring out what _his_ problem is. “Since we’re one person short, can you wipe down the desks before you do the windows?” she questions, walking to the cleaning closet. They’ll manage. “I’ll take out the trash in the meanwhile, and when you’re done I’ll flip all the chairs and sweep the floor and mop. If you can wash the chalkboard, I think we’ll be good… to go…”

Mitarai’s entire body shakes. With cold? With anger?

She edges forward uncertainly. It’s like approaching a shivering cat--she wants to help, but nobody likes claws to the face. “Mitarai?”

“You’re not!” he gasps, whirling around. He’s _terrified_ , his skin as ashen as Komaeda’s sickly complexion. Dark bags hang under trembling eyes, like the stress of half a decade has come crashing down upon him all at once. “It isn’t my… not my fault… But you aren’t…”

He’s seconds away from exploding. Or imploding. Or dissolving into a messy puddle of tears. She backs away fearfully. “I’m here.”

“ _You aren’t supposed to be!_ ” he shrieks. He bolts like a wild animal, almost tearing the door off its hinges in his desperate escape.

Chiaki’s body refuses to move for the longest moment. It only unfreezes when her mind realizes she’s the only person left in an uncleaned classroom. The growing bitterness even makes its way onto her features by the time she wipes down the desks, flips the chairs, sweeps the floor, and spot-cleans food stains and skid marks. She doesn’t truly despair until she begins to sort the recycling bins and realizes, without Pekoyama’s expertise, this task will literally take her all afternoon.

She gives up and grabs the trash bags.

The trash compactor is located behind the school. Contrary to anime stereotypes, delinquents don’t hang out here. While delinquents do exist even in a school as prestigious as Hope’s Peak, they all have better places to be. That’s what Chiaki thinks, at least, until angry shouts assault her ears the moment she pushes the back door open.

“You think you’re big shit, Oowada, but you’re nothing more than a fuckin’ mook. When the heir of the largest syndicate in Japan personally requests you to calm the fuck down whenever you’re in yakuza territory, _you calm the fuck down_.”

“We’re the Crazy Diamonds, you little shitstain! We’ll do whatever we fuckin’ want whenever we fuckin’ want!”

“Oi. I don’t know what my sister sees in an asshole like you, but I put my neck on the chopping block to keep things quiet, to talk to the fuckin’ baby brother instead of, y’know, the actual man behind the Crazy Diamonds. You can bond with your gangmates and steal loyalties from Daiya all you want, I don't fuckin' care. But if your peewee tricycle gang disrupts our operations again, it's my head that's gonna roll.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

A massive guy sporting a pompadour punches a sizeable dent into the dumpster next to Kuzuryu’s face. Kuzuryu doesn’t flinch; his stance is proud and ready to take on the world. He genuinely looks like he could seize the lapels of Oowada’s overcoat and toss him bodily into the trash compactor. The two men, one at least twice the size of the other, face off for another tense moment before Oowada roars and storms off. Kuzuryu immediately heads for the back gate, mumbling something into a wireless headpiece.

She moves to intercept him. Gangster loyalties aside, he still has responsibilities to the school. As yakuza, he’s sure to understand. He moves much quicker than she expected. So focused she is on catching up with Kuzuryu as he takes a shortcut through a copse of trees, she barely notices the flicker of motion from the corner of her eyes before it’s too late.

Reflexes honed by horror survival games moves her face from the path of the shinai. The bamboo sword snaps back lightning-quick, slashing across her torso. She barely dodges this one too. Her mind is fast, processing the momentum of the weapon and predicting her opponent’s next strike based off of combos usually chained together by opponents in _Street Fighter_ and _Guilty Gear_. Her body is nowhere as agile, however. Maybe if she took Nidai up on his offer and picked up a sport… anyways, right now a one-handed backspring or even the simplest somersault dive are not dodging options available to her. So she skips backward once, twice, until she stumbles. Her opponent stabs her in the gut with a blunt but forceful blade that knocks her onto her butt.

She swallows back the urge to vomit. It’s the hardest blow she’s been dealt in her… well, life, really. Her stomach rebels and she curls around it pathetically.

“Do not follow him,” says Pekoyama. Her eyes glow crimson in the shadow cast by the school building.

If she tries to speak, she’s going to throw up. If she doesn’t speak, Pekoyama will walk away. She opens her mouth and whines pitifully until Pekoyama pauses. Good enough.

After a moment, Pekoyama takes a hold of Chiaki’s recently discarded trash bag. She disposes of it and returns to Chiaki’s side. “If you insist, I cannot stop you from following the young master down his treacherous path,” she intones, resheathing her shinai into the cloth carrying case strapped to her back, “but you must take care to tread lightly. Do not speak of this encounter between the younger Oowada and the young master to anyone. _Especially_ the young master’s little sister.”

* * *

**Evening**

* * *

The central fountain is deserted.

It is very late. Chiaki seriously considered calling Sensei when she returned to the classroom, only to find everything spruced up in her absence. Maybe Mitarai came back. Maybe Sensei came back. She doesn’t care. She wants to discuss _Gala Omega_ with somebody who knows the lore as well as she does. She wants to share her gaming expertise with somebody willing to listen. She wants to sit next to a body that radiates as much warmth as she does, wants to press into his shoulder until she hits the firm muscle beneath.

She sits alone on a bench next to the central fountain, geometry cheat sheet in hand, and waits.

_“Why wait for the Fool?”_

_She snaps out of a little rest-eye and looks around wildly. She is no longer alone; the long-haired boy occupies the other end of the bench._

_“The Fool has been forging his own path since you’ve become aware of your school life,” the boy continues. When he snaps his fingers, a Lovers Arcana symbol pops into existence between them. It swells in size, amber light pouring from within until the entire card shimmers like forged gold, but the boy stares at it as if it was not the card he was expecting. Eventually he says, “Will you wait for him when he’s already so far ahead?”_

“Chiaki?”

She snaps out of a little rest-eye and looks around wildly. She is no longer alone; a lithe figure in a full black suit occupies the other end of the bench, her shuffled geometry notes in his hands.

“I caught your runaway papers,” Naegi explains sheepishly. “Maybe try securing them before you doze off?”

She blinks blearily. Oh. The sun has already set. It’s pretty late. The gates have probably locked already. “So… do you live in the dorms too?”

“What?” says Naegi in confusion. “Ha! I wish. I’m helping a friend study tonight, but I don’t actually live here.” A fond look crosses his expression. “Though if I could, I would…”

“Oh. After what Kirigiri said, I thought…”

A joyful smile blossoms across Naegi’s face. “You’ve seen Kirigiri?”

She can’t help but feel like she’s put her foot in her mouth. She’s met with Kirigiri every day of this week, yet the one who actually seeking her out hasn’t even glimpsed her once.

(“Makoto Naegi might be looking for me, but make sure you don’t lose sight of him either.”)

Was that a warning? Is Naegi dangerous?

...Pffft. This completely unremarkable little guy? Dangerous?

“Yes,” she finally says. “She lives in my dorm. I thought…”

Naegi’s smile slips. Chiaki glares at him meaningfully before he can attempt to pin up the fallen corner of his mouth. He holds up his hands and laughs. “Okay, okay. I’ll let you know what I was thinking. But first! The #1 Most Important Thing To Know About Kyoko Kirigiri: trust her.”

“...What?”

“That doesn’t mean she’ll always tell you the truth right away,” he backpedals. “The last thing she said to me was a lie, actually. But you have to understand: Kirigiri is first and foremost a detective. She investigates alone to keep bias from her data collection. She keeps her conjectures close to her heart until she, beyond a shadow of a doubt, establishes them as fact or fiction. She tries to see the world through an as objective lens as possible; that includes people like you and me. I love her from the bottom of my heart, I really do, but until you come to accept that about Kirigiri, you’ll be hard-pressed to be anything more than a colleague to her.” He rallies a final grin. “But still. When it comes down to the wire, you can always trust Kirigiri to tell you the whole truth. Just be prepared to wait for 100% completion.”

Chiaki stopped following Naegi’s words the moment she found the hitch in his argument. One of these sentences is not like the others. “Have you told her?” she says.

Naegi pauses. “Huh?”

“Does she know?” she presses.

A red flush creeps its way up the back of Naegi’s neck. “Wh… What are you talking about?”

“Does. Kirigiri. know.”

An 8-bit animation of Chiaki with wings and a bow shoots an affirmation arrow into Naegi’s I love her from the bottom of my heart. The screen shatters and drops away in jagged shards, revealing Naegi’s blushing red face underneath.

“I-I-I…” Naegi buries his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“She doesn’t,” Chiaki concludes.

“No…” Naegi moans, still into his hands. “I haven’t… That’s not why I’m looking for her! Don’t get any funny ideas. We have more important things to discuss than my… her… our love life.” He looks up at her hopefully. “Normally it’d go without saying, but you’re a teenager, so please: don’t tell her, please?”

She tilts her head quizzically. “Didn’t you say you were my underclassman?”

“Is that what Kirigiri said?” He slaps a hand over his mouth. “Um. Take foot. Place in oral cavity. Can we switch topics before I eat my socks?”

Behind that boyishly young face is a pair of eyes that have seen the chaotic void of empty space yet still burn as brightly as stars in the night. She believes him when he says his priorities don’t currently include his relationship with Kirigiri, but she still can’t let it go. “Will she ever know?”

Naegi sobers up quickly. “If we manage to get out of this situation, it’ll be the first thing I tell her.” The street lights flicker on; he closes his eyes and lifts his face into the glow cast by their fluorescent buzz. “Until then, I’m willing to wait.

“Forever, if need be.”

* * *

**Night**

* * *

Chiaki crams for geometry in the common room because it keeps her away from her video games, but that’s not her primary reason for setting up shop there.

There’s also the side effect of catching the attention of all her classmates. Koizumi helps Chiaki and discretely snaps “candid” pictures for about fifteen minutes before receiving a call from her best friend in the reserve course. Sonia studies with Chiaki for an hour before retiring to bed at the ridiculously early hour of 9 PM. Finally, the woman of the hour enters the dormitory at 11 PM. So she has a working student ID. Or the ID she stole hasn’t been deactivated yet. She packs her study materials as Kirigiri comes to a stop next to her.

“I saw Naegi again today,” Chiaki says.

Kirigiri nods. “Who was he with?”

She asked that the last (and first) time they talked about Naegi. Are Naegi’s companions important to her? “Nobody,” says Chiaki. “He was by himself.”

“Interesting.” Kirigiri folds her arms. “You were waiting for me?”

Chiaki nods wordlessly.

“Ready for a hike?”

“...Excuse me?”

“I live on the top floor. I don’t take the elevator.”

Five gasping staircases later, Chiaki slumps against the wall next to the Kirigiri’s feet to catch her breath. Forget about joining a sports team to dodge opponent attacks; she _needs_ to join a sport, any sport, just to get fit. What use is a crowbar and hunting knife during the zombie apocalypse if she can’t run the full length of a building or stab her weapon through a single undead skull without getting winded?

Kirigiri waits patiently. Not a single lavender strand of hair is out of place or plastered to her forehead with sweat. Chiaki might stand a chance of survival if she tripped up Kirigiri… but Naegi then would be sad, and Chiaki can’t even bear to imagine what he would look like with eyes emptied of everything but despair.

Actually, she can. Despairful Naegi would look like a little like Komaeda… with infinitely better hair.

“This is my room,” Kirigiri calls from down the hall, pushing open the door to a spacious corner room. Chiaki enters and sheds her shoes only when invited. If Chiaki didn’t know any better, she’d suspect Kirigiri for claiming an unoccupied bedroom as hers. It certainly doesn’t look personalized at all. None of the furniture has been moved around. Standard bedding. Standard lamp on a standard desk completely empty, save for a single pocket-sized notebook. Three pairs of flats and a single pair of knee-high boots. Standard blackout curtains. A pair of reading glasses sits atop facedown photo frame on a standard bedside table.

That’s about it.

“Is he well?”

“Naegi?” Chiaki closes the door and leans against it. Something deep within her still wants to trust the woman. She still wants to believe in Kirigiri.

(“The last thing she said to me was a lie.”)

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Kirigiri seats herself at the head of her bed and folds her legs. “I’m going off the grid next week,” she says simply. “For as long as the board of directors are snooping around campus, nobody will be able to reach me.”

Chiaki frowns. It’s an acceptable answer, but… “I’ve encountered you every day for the past four days. You even admitted yesterday: the meeting at Aiya’s was by Fate. So if we keep bumping into each other on accident and on purpose, why are you avoiding Naegi?”

Kirigiri maintains eye contact with a cool, professional demeanor. Then, without warning, her solid resolve collapses. Her body collapses as well as she tosses herself onto her back, lavender hair spilling everywhere. It’s an oddly humanizing motion, especially when she shields her eyes with a jacketed arm.

“Not yet,” she says, her voice painstakingly controlled and even. “He’s not ready yet.”

Chiaki sinks to the ground, back still against the door, glances away. She’s torn open a wound her respected underclasswoman probably wanted to stay closed and now she’s not sure what to say.

“Don’t get me wrong; Naegi’s the strongest man I’ve known, bar none. He’s optimistic, he always puts his friends first, and he’ll never give up, even when his life depends on it.” Her arm flops down to her side, but from Chiaki’s position on the floor, she can’t tell if Kirigiri’s eyes are open or closed. “I want to see him. I really do, from the bottom of my heart and for all the right reasons. But now is not the right time.”  

Chiaki nods. Then she realizes Kirigiri can’t see her down here and vocalizes, “Okay.”

“Please respect my privacy, Nanami, when I request that you never bring him here.”

“Never crossed my mind,” she replies honestly.

Kirigiri’s breathing remains steady throughout their conversation. Chiaki watches her chest rise and fall evenly, unsure if this is the part where she takes her leave.

“Even though you’re going undercover next week,” she asks, “will you return here every night to sleep?”

Kirigiri rolls onto her side and levels her with a wary gaze. “Perhaps.”

She keeps the eye contact with difficulty. “If you won’t accept Naegi’s help, will you take mine?” She swallows and recalls Yukizome-Sensei’s nervous activity. “If I get any tips, I’ll slide a note under your door. In code,” she adds quickly. “Unownian script. From _HeartGold_.”

“Thank you, Nanami.”

When Kirigiri swings herself upright, Chiaki figures it’s finally time to say goodnight. She pushes herself forward to roll onto her knees and bow slightly. “Thank you for showing me your room. For trusting me, when I… when I could only trust Naegi.”

“That was the most logical course of action,” Kirigiri says, “and I take no offense to it.”

She slips on her shoes but pauses with a hand on the doorknob. “About Naegi… you said it wasn’t the right time yet. How long will that be?”

“That’s something Naegi must come to discover by himself. Nobody can just give him the answer; life doesn’t work like that. I’m willing to wait until he reaches that personal conclusion himself.

“Forever, if need be.”

* * *

**Chiaki Nanami’s Social Qualities**

Empathy: basic (level 1.5)  
Expression: rough (level 1)  
Knowledge: aware (level 1)  
Courage: wallflower (level 0.5)  

**Chiaki Nanami's Major Arcana**

0\. Fool..................★☆☆☆☆..... Hajime Hinata  
I. Magician............☆☆☆☆☆..... Kazuichi Souda   
II. Priestess...........★☆☆☆☆..... Mikan Tsumiki  
III. Empress..........★★☆☆☆..... Sonia Nevermind  
IV. Emperor...........☆☆☆☆☆.... Nekomaru Nidai   
V. Hierophant........☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
VI. Lovers.............☆☆☆☆☆..... Akane Owari  
VII. Chariot...........☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu~~ (advance Pekoyama first)  
VIII. Justice...........☆☆☆☆☆..... Ryota Mitarai  
IX. Hermit.............★☆☆☆☆..... Peko Pekoyama  
X. Fortune.............★☆☆☆☆..... Nagito Komaeda  
XI. Strength..........☆☆☆☆☆.....  ~~Mahiru Koizumi~~ (advance Saionji first)  
XII. Hanged Man....☆☆☆☆☆..... Kyoko Kirigiri  
XIII. Death............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XIV. Temperance....☆☆☆☆☆..... Ibuki Mioda  
XV. Devil...............☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Teruteru Hanamura~~ (advance Owari first)  
XVI. Tower............☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Hiyoko Saionji~~ (advance Tsumiki first)  
XVII. Star..............★☆☆☆☆..... ~~Makoto Naegi~~ (advance Kirigiri first)  
XVIII. Moon...........☆☆☆☆☆..... Gundham Tanaka  
XIX. Sun...............★☆☆☆☆..... Yukizome-Sensei  
XX. Judgement.......☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Izuru Kamukura~~ (automatic with story progression)  
XXI. World.............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVERYONE’S ALIVE. Even the Twilight Syndrome girls and Crazy Diamond guys are alive. COMMENCE CAMEOS FROM TRIGGER HAPPY HAVOC GALORE! (Emotional trauma still intact and unresolved though, otherwise we wouldn’t have a story.) Plus have some Naegiri fluff! More like Nae/giri T_T because PLOT PLOT PLOT.
> 
> Dur dur dur I messed up on midterms. The first Japanese school term is 15 weeks long, so midterms can't be until at least week 7. We’ve just hit the second half of week 3... so Chiaki has a month to catch up on her math, instead of two weeks.
> 
> Because some characters span several days (Pekoyama and Kuzuryu are really tough nuts to crack), please keep reminding me every chapter which characters you'd like to prioritize _for the next chapter_. Also to make it easier on me, so I don't have to keep searching through past comments.
> 
> Chiaki wants to join a sports club! Which sport should she take on? Swimming, kendo, gymnastics, martial arts, tennis, and cross country are some suggested options. Nidai manages all of the sports teams, but certain characters from DR1 or DR2 will join the supporting cast based off the afternoon activity you choose.
> 
> Weird things you probably don't care to know about me:  
> 1) cis male, he/him, gaaaaaaaaaaaayuh  
> 2) I vastly prefer dub to sub. I can name all the voice actors in the animated DR series.  
> 3) first time writing from a female POV (Chiaki's VA is Christine Cabanos, also voiced Madoka). Can male writers create believable female characters? Erm.  
> 4) I automatically dislike any character stylin' a pompadour, sorry Oowada (VA Christopher Sabat, best known for Vegeta and Sir Louis Armstrong). (Sorry Space Dandy, even Ian Sinclair's sexy voice couldn't save you).  
> 5) Favorite dead DR1 character: Ishimaru (DR1:Animation VA Austin Tindle, also known for Ken Kaneki). So socially awkward. So cute. Whatever sport you choose, I'll find some way to justify his cameo.


	5. there wouldn’t be 96 billion stars in the sky if we were all meant to wish on the same one

**Friday Morning**

* * *

For the first time in a long time, Chiaki’s mildly thankful that she went to bed early. _Went_ being the operative word; _conked out atop her GameGirl_ probably better describes what actually happened. Geometry takes brainpower; _Gala Omega_ does not. So with seven hours ( _seven! On a weekday!)_ under her belt, Chiaki awakes with Yukizome-Sensei’s cheat sheet clear in her mind. Math-Sensei can’t fail her now. She’s got this.

Reciting both pages of proofs by memory, while mentally taxing, doesn’t require her full concentration, so it’s with the remaining 15% of her brain that she catches sight of hot pink hair the moment she exits her dormitory. ...Hold on. It’s eight minutes too early. She hasn’t entered her classroom yet. What is Kazuichi Souda doing here?

She _almost_ tucks this away for later thought. She has a geometry quiz to prepare for. Souda just sits in the desk before hers; he’s none of her business. But… if he’s waiting for Sonia… if, after yesterday’s debacle, he’s got it in his mind to walk Sonia to class every morning…

Sonia is Chiaki’s friend--her first friend, actually--so Sonia’s business should become Chiaki’s business. Plus she owes Souda an explanation of sorts. She steels herself mentally and turns in his direction. In the same moment, Souda shouts, “Nanami!”

She falters. “Huh?”

“Yo Nanami! I looked all over the place for you yesterday. Where were you?”

He must not have been looking very hard. Classroom cleaning and waiting at the central fountain… those are all pretty public areas. She keeps this to herself and hooks two fingers around the elbow of his grease-stained jumpsuit to guide him away from the dorm. “Let’s walk.”

To her enormous relief, he easily complies. The more distance she can put between him and the entrance to the girls’ dorm, the less, um, creepy this scene will be. She doesn’t know Souda very well and is hesitant to voice this in such a harsh manner. It’s difficult just talking to him when he’s practically a stranger.

She opens her mouth and an extremely neutral, “Can I help you?” comes out instead.

Whoops.

No, this is good. Unbiased third party is a good idea. Right? Uh, if this was a dating sim…

“Uh, yeah? Honestly, you really threw me for a loop with that wink yesterday.” Souda scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “You still actin’ as my wingwoman? Did you explain the situation to Princess Sonia? What did she say? How does she feel? Will--”

Chiaki holds up her hands. “Slow down. I don’t know. I don’t know the situation. I--”

Souda snaps his head back and groans at the heavens. “Ugh, some wingwoman you are! At least throw me a bone! Don’t tell me you sat in the bathroom for a whole hour with Princess Sonia and didn’t--”

“You waited outside?”

He backpedals nervously. “No! I’m not that lame!”

Chiaki sneaks a dubious glance back at the dorm entrance.

Souda actually screeches to an indignant halt. “D-D-Don’t get any weird ideas! I was waiting for _you_ , y’know!”

What. “...Me?”

He folds his arms and shoves his hands deep into his armpits. “Y-Yeah! I thought… Okay, I don’t know what to think, Nanami. Two weeks straight of being the world’s quietest zombie wallflower and now this.”

“...This?”

“You!” He gesticulates wildly. “Whatever you’re doing! Last week you wouldn’t have batted an eye if a fly landed on it. Now you’re all winks and smiles and besties with Princess Sonia! Seriously, what was the wink for?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out.” She shoots the dorm entrance one last glance--no sign of Sonia, thankfully--before resuming their walk.

She’s nowhere as subtle as she thinks she is; Souda sees her gesture and hotly exclaims, “I would never disrespect Princess Sonia by creepin’ all over her sleeping quarters. I-I-I mean, s’not like I even know which floor her room’s on! That’s just not cool, man!”

“I believe you.”

“Really?”

“...Maybe.”

“Argh! Seriously?” he says. “I dunno what I was thinking, but I guess I thought you would be on my side or sumthin’? Cuz, y’know, the wink.”

That's it, she'll never wink again. “I would like to help."

"Whoa, really?"

"...I think.”

“Hmph, I’ll take it. Wingwoman, right?”

Souda is a whirlwind of energy and emotion and words, so many words. Chiaki can barely keep up. “No.”

His runaway hope is airborne for all of two seconds before it crashes and burns. “ _What?_ You _just_ said you’d help me get with the Princess!”

Indignation rolls through her subconscious but never makes it to the surface. Her voice remains just as quiet as ever when she says, “Why do you keep calling her Princess Sonia?”

“She’s the future monarch of a European country. Her toenails are worth more than the lives of our entire class! She deserves special treatment, yet nobody but me seems to even give her the time of day. So I'll make up for what the entire class is lacking. Calling her by her royal title is the least I can do to give her her due respect. I have pencil lead and erasers and extra notebook paper ready for her if she ever runs out. I make sure nobody threatens her when she travels between buildings. I--"

"You do realize you're walking a very fine line between being protective and being really, really creepy, right?"

She wishes she could take back her words the moment they leave her mouth. As is, they hang between her and Souda mockingly. A void opens up in the silence and stretches on and on, growing ever wider, pushing her and Souda apart until an ocean of awkwardness prevents her from reaching him. 

Face burning, she puts her head down and speed-walks into the school building.

 

* * *

**Lunch**

* * *

Geometry is over before she knows it, which is strange because in the past four days she’s either slept through it or spent an eternity and a half staring at the blackboard without a clue in the world.

The quiz was five questions long. A double-sided sheet of paper, plenty of blank spaces. She drew turret lasers at the ends of all the lines, placed alien ships at the corners of all the shapes, and scribbled down every proof she could recall along the margins of the sheet. She was the last to finish, but she’ll never forget how, upon passing their quizzes to the front of the class, Souda, Sonia, Mitarai, and finally Math-Sensei paused to gawk at the sheer amount of information transcribed upon her sheet.

High score!

“Maybe,” says Sonia playfully, leaning into the edge of Chiaki’s desk, “I should ask you to teach me your geometrical ways over the weekend instead, Chiaki-sensei.”

“I would rather cook,” she answers, “and eat.”

“And that is why we are friends,” Sonia laughs. “Come, let us walk to the cafeteria. I am sure we will be able to find inspiration for a simple dish there.”

“Hey Princess Sonia!” Souda springs from his seat excitedly. “I’m headed to the cafeteria too! How ‘bout we walk together?”

“No thank you,” Sonia replies bluntly.

“O-Oh.” He looks to Chiaki for help. She blinks back owlishly and his happiness flickers and falters as memory of this morning settles like thick fog between them. With dampened energy, he turns back to Sonia and stammers, “Then will you mind if I, uh, hang back and walk a little ways behind--”

For half a second, Sonia shoots Chiaki a look of such pleading desperation before immediately refocusing on Souda. But Chiaki can't ignore that cry for help; her loyalty to Sonia is much stronger than her relationship to Souda, so she jumps in even though she knows her interference will hurt Souda. She slings her knapsack over one shoulder and laces her fingers through Sonia's as she stands. "Sorry Souda... girls only."

The last of his exuberance fades at her blatant brush-off. “A-Ah, okay,” he says as he sinks into his seat.

Sonia pulls Chiaki into the hall soon thereafter. "I should not have involved you in that," she says morosely. "Souda's feelings are my responsibility alone..."

Their fingers are still linked together. Chiaki doesn't feel a need to separate at all. "Resolve that situation at your own pace. Take your time. I'm happy to be your excuse until then."

Sonia squeezes her hand once and smiles. “Thank you, Chiaki. Oh, and I must apologize again: did you not bring a bento today? I should asked first before dragging you to the cafeteria..."  

“I don’t want my rice balls,” Chiaki murmurs. “I can’t believe you ate two yesterday.”

“I accepted your offering because it was made by you!”

“That was a mistake.”

She laughs. “Chiaki, we all were there once. It certainly is very disconcerting to be on the other end now, but an upset stomach is easier remedied than, say, a broken heart.” She clasps Chiaki’s hand with both of hers. “That is why we shall choose something wonderful and simple to cook together! While I am attending high school here to learn and adopt Japanese culture, I am still Novoselian at my core. It would be my honor to consume a dish we have prepared for each other.”

Instead of the usual Japanese fare of one food station doling out a balanced meal, the Hope’s Peak cafeteria is styled after a western food court with multiple entree selections. It even has a small seating area, though every table is occupied with strangers. They’ll probably have to return to the classroom to eat.

When Sonia murmurs, “Keep it simple,” more like a reminder to herself than anything, Chiaki takes her to the pizza parlour. Sonia stifles a laugh in return. “Why don’t we try something Japanese?”

Chiaki points down the line of pizzas: the popular pepperoni, half a Hawaiian, and an untouched fishy monstrosity packed with peculiarities including but not limited to octopus tentacles and clams _still in their shells_. “You can’t get more Japanese than seafood,” she says as her companion frantically herds her over to the next food station. “Okonomiyaki’s cool too.”

“Hmm?” Sonia inspects the flat mass of food. “What is it made of?”

“Everything.” At Sonia’s confusion, she clarifies, “It’s kinda like an omelette pancake. With shredded cabbage and bacon.” She pauses. “It’s pretty easy.”

“Perfect!”

“I think.”

“...We’ll never know until we try!”

Sonia opts to eat in the cafeteria commons, so thus begins the daunting task of finding empty seats in the rather small collection of tables. Chiaki spends all of five seconds scanning the room before spotting Makoto Naegi of all people gesturing her over. To be honest, she only catches sight of his black-suited figure because it’s framed against the white uniform of massive, white-haired woman. Said mountain of a woman rises from her seat as Chiaki and Sonia approach.

“Replacing us already?” a cheery, feminine voice teases. Chiaki jumps; she hadn’t noticed the tanned girl speaking from within the giant’s shadow. Despite the significantly smaller girl’s suit jacket and tie, her bottom wear consists of a pair of high-waisted shorts and sneakers. “I’ll forgive you, Makoto, but only if you recruit them for the swim club!”

“Or martial arts,” the giant adds at a deep yet surprisingly gentle pitch. “Let ‘em know the deadline’s next week. We want to finalize team membership before midterms swing around.”

“I’m on it!” Naegi grins. “See ya later, Hina, Sakura. Hi Nanami! Might I entice you and your friend to join a sports club over lunch?”

“It is my pleasure to meet you, Naegi,” Sonia greets after the mandatory introductions. “Might I ask: was that _the_ Sakura Oogami?”

Chiaki forces herself to pay attention at Sonia’s unexpected enthusiasm. “Is she famous?”

“She’s only the greatest martial artist in our age category!” Something akin to stars shines in Sonia’s eyes. “I met her just last year in America during an international peace conference. She’d just added her 386th consecutive victory to her repertoire.”

“She’s here at Hope’s Peak now,” Naegi adds, “taking a break from her career to focus on her studies and guide mixed martial arts training after school, if you’re interested!”

Chiaki files away this tidbit information. She doesn’t listen much to Naegi’s obligatory swim club recruitment speech though. Water and video games don’t really like each other. Chiaki can count on one hand how many times she’s neared a body of water large enough to stop breathing in. All she needs to know how to do is not drown; she’s got that covered. Now if waterproof consoles were a thing…

Chiaki snaps back into the present around the time Sonia muses, “Perhaps I could use finally put that Australian wetsuit to use again.”

“The school provides a standard one-piece for its female swimmers, and besides, a full-body suit wouldn’t be very sweat-able,” says Naegi. “Even though she could probably eat a week’s worth of donuts in one sitting, Hina’s pretty focused on staying active and in shape. You’ll definitely get an all-body workout if you join the swim team.”

Chiaki swallows her mouthful of okonomiyaki. Naegi seems very happy and content, she decides. He must have no shortage of friends if he can befriend anybody from swimmers with killer bodies to mountain-sized martial arts masters. Especially if said friends are familiar enough to sic their recruiting responsibilities onto him, and with him so willingly doing so.

Kirigiri, on the other hand… Maybe the detective was similar to Chiaki in that they both feel emotions--lots of them, definitely--but have difficulty expressing them outwardly. But if Chiaki had to guess, she’d say Kirigiri had given off an unhappy vibe last night, lying on her bed with an arm cast across her eyes to hide her expression.

(“But now is not the right time.”)

What was that supposed to mean?

Chiaki startles at the abrupt invitation when Naegi chirps, “Wanna come stargazing with me and a friend? There’s a meteor shower tonight!”

Sonia smiles. “Are you still in recruiting mode?”

“Eh… heh heh heh,” he mumbles. “Caught redhanded... But honestly, I don’t think anybody will show up. Still, even though I know Hiro’s fortunetelling club probably won’t get enough members, I still want to support him. Plus this meteor shower is a once-a-year kinda thing. Pretty rare, if you know what I mean?” He chuckles. “Just putting it out there. Hiro--uh, though you’d call him Hagakure--has permission from the school to hold his astrology session on the roof tonight, so we’ll be free from the city’s light pollution…”

He has Sonia hooked at the word _roof_. “That area is accessible?”

“Yeah! It’s usually locked, but Hiro takes his star-viewing pretty seriously. He’ll have blankets and thermoses of hot chocolate and lots of information about constellations and horoscopes and finding love. It’s mostly in good fun. He has a 30% accuracy when it comes to predicting the future, just in case you were curious.”

“Stars and love,” says Chiaki. "Sounds like Tanabata."

“Tanabata…” Sonia wonders. “I think I remember this from my Japanese studies lectures. It’s a festival in July, isn’t it?”

“Seventh day of the seventh month,” Chiaki nods.

Naegi tears a sheet of paper from a notebook and begins scribbling a rough diagram of the night sky, starting with broad strokes of a blue pen to divide his drawing space in two. He switches to a green pen to color in grassy plains and herd animals: home of Hikoboshi, the unremarkable cow-herding commoner, along with his family and friends. Then he uses purple to draw the sacred lands where Orihime, the daughter of the Jade Emperor, spent her days weaving robes for her father in isolation.

“If this is your first year in Japan, Tanabata’s a great festival to start with,” Naegi chirps. “It’s not a very complex love story, but it’ll give you a background for some of the traditions we do during Tanabata. Once upon a time, a young deity, Orihime, descended from the heavens and fell in love with a normal human man, Hikoboshi. They were married shortly thereafter, but in their love they neglected their previous responsibilities. When the village cows wandered away from the fields, his family and friends starved. The goddess was a skilled seamstress, so when she left, her father grew very lonely and requested she return and practice her talents in heaven again. The moment she did, though, her father threw down a river of stars, the Great Milky Way, to forever separate heaven and earth. Orihime was so heartbroken that the quality of her work suffered, so her father allowed them to meet once a year--that’s Tanabata, on the seventh day of the seventh month. So now the descendants of Hikoboshi--that’s us--write their wishes on colored strips of paper and hanging them on bamboo branches. It’s symbolic, sorta like wishing on falling stars. Or you could imagine them as threads of cloth to be woven into heavenly garments.”

“But that’s not till July,” interrupts Chiaki, ever the optimist. “A month and a half away.”

“Tanabata’s a day of the year,” Naegi says lightly. “Tonight’s shooting stars are the real thing.”

Sonia flips open her phone in the tablespace between them with such enthusiasm, a powerful gust of wind might as well have radiated from the gesture. “The roof it is! What time shall we meet?”

“Midnight is probably a little early.”

The blast of wind abruptly chokes and dissipates. “What.”

Naegi pulls out his cellphone obliviously. “How ‘bout I meet you two by the shoe lockers at 1?”

Ah. That’s right. “Sonia has an early bedtime.”

She receives a poke in the thigh for her bluntness. “The meteor shower does not occur any earlier?”

“Eh… I could ask, but I don’t think so…”

Sonia bites her lip and Naegi looks somewhat disappointed. Chiaki sighs and adds her mobile device to their technology huddle. “Just give me your number. We’ll let you know later today if we can make it.”

Even as she says this, she’s already setting aside time in her mental schedule to sneak out of the dorms and into the main school building. 

Naegi crumples his Tanabata diagram into a ball and tosses it onto his lunch tray as he stands. Chiaki rockets to her feet and snatches up the paper ball before he can take off. She stares blankly at his surprised expression. “It’s a good picture,” is all she says, tucking it in her pocket.

“Oh. Okay.” He startles slightly and his eyes briefly flick up to the space above Chiaki’s head, but they’re back on her and Sonia before she can follow his gaze. “Hope to see you two tonight!”

She glances up after he’s gone. The ceiling looks nice and new and utterly unremarkable.

Weird.

* * *

**Afternoon**

* * *

_ >>Please give Naegi my apologies! I will not be able to view the meteor shower tonight.>> _

Princess Sonia texting during class? Oh my. Chiaki types out a quick reply.

_ <<okay<< _

_ >>I think I shall buy preliminary groceries when classes end. Let me know if you would like to cook together this weekend!>> _

Sonia’s reasons for breaking school rules becomes apparent the moment the school bell rings. She’s out of her desk before Souda can tap her on the shoulder and vanishes from the room before he can even call out.

Souda remains slumped in his seat even as Chiaki packs up her supplies. Though she barely knows him, this isn’t like him at all. But before she can even attempt damage control, Sensei calls from the podium, “Mitarai, Kuzuryu, and Nanami, please meet me up here.”

Souda finally startles into action when Chiaki brushes past him.

“It seems like our dear Nanami here cleaned the classroom all by her lonesome yesterday!” Sensei chirrups when she arrives. Sensei’s smile is menacingly gigantic.

Kuzuryu glares at Mitarai.

Mitarai stares at the floor.

Sensei’s smile gains a sinister edge.

“I had urgent family business to take care of yesterday,” says Kuzuryu somewhat bravely. “That’s a reason, not an excuse. I’ll be the first to vote for Nanami leaving early. I'll shoulder her duties too.”

Sensei claps delightfully, all threat gone from her posture. “Excellent idea, Kuzuryu! Do you have anything to add, Mitarai?”

“...Sure.”

Kuzuryu glares at Mitarai again. Sensei looks like she wants to say something. Chiaki interrupts, “But I didn’t do it all.”

“Hm?” Sensei shoots her a look of genuine confusion.

The recycling, the chalkboard and the erasers, the windows… Sensei hadn’t done all of that while Chiaki was out taking the trash? Her encounter with Pekoyama, though painful, had only taken fifteen minutes at most. Who other than Sensei could have magically cleaned the rest of the classroom in that short of a time period?

“Never mind,” she says instead.

“Then shoo!” Sensei smiles. “Get out of here! Enjoy your early weekend, Nanami!”

Mitarai refuses to face her; that’s nothing new. But Kuzuryu nods respectfully as she passes, which, coming from a guy who’d out-intimidated a biker gang member, fills her with a sense of accomplishment.

A whole hour of free time. What now?

Her fingers itch to wrap around a console. She slips out the _PlaystaxionVida_ as she walks and isn’t all that surprised to see an upside-down tarot card on the homescreen. The same one she saw a couple days ago, with a roman numeral of I. She _is_ startled, however, when the splash of water reaches her ears. She pauses _Dead Fantasy VIII_ to find herself walking past the school’s central fountain.

Hinata is nowhere to be seen.

Her chest is heavy for some reason. She purses her lips as she perches on the lip of the fountain basin. Hinata’s absence is worrying for reasons she can’t exactly explain. He should… Hold on. It’s still early in the afternoon, isn’t it? She’s been relieved of cleaning duty, but the same might not be true of Hinata. He should still be in the reserve course building! She scans the skyline until she finds the unfamiliar glass and concrete tower. Somewhere on one of those floors, Hajime Hinata is still cleaning his classroom. She just might be able to catch him if she waits by the school gate…

Because she’s forced to keep her gaze trained on the reserve course building during most of the trek into unfamiliar territory instead of down at her game, it isn’t long before she is made acutely aware of how much she sticks out here. Nothing more than a khaki blip in a swift current of faceless black suits. Faceless black suits that whisper in unfriendly, slightly threatening tones. She shrinks into herself as much as possible, and when the pair of brick pillars framing the building’s gates come into view, she latches onto the nearest structure like a drowning woman and retreats as far as possible into her handheld.

“And what do we have here?”

Chiaki’s first impression of the blonde reserve student towering over her is _genderbent Kuzuryu._ From the faint, perpetual blush on her cheeks to the ferocious fire in her golden eyes, everything about this girl screams _could defeat a bike gang member with the power of her sneer alone_.

Chiaki flinches when the blonde nudges her with a foot. “Hey. I asked you a question. Who are you?”

“Chiaki Nanami.”

“Speak up. A fly's fart was louder than your mouth.”

“Chiaki Nanami.” She swallows. “Ultimate Gamer.”

“Gamer?” The blonde’s upper lip curls. “ _This_ is the kind of people my brother’s surrounded by? What a pathetic excuse of a talent.” When Chiaki attempts to retreat into her game, the younger Kuzuryu nudges her harder. “Oy. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Now feels a good a time as any to run. But… Hinata could still be here…

Kuzuryu’s flashy eyes are too terrifying, so she forces herself to stare at the girl’s mouth instead.

“Bet you’re failing all your classes, huh? Wonder how long the headmaster’s gonna put up with your ‘talent’ before he drops you like the sad sack of failure that you are.”

They’re surrounded by faceless reserve course students. Why doesn’t anybody intervene? When Chiaki tries to get to her feet, Kuzuryu shoves her back down and she almost drops her handheld at the force. She carefully tucks it into her jacket pocket--Naegi’s Tanabata diagram crinkles in protest--and meets Kuzuryu’s eyes with as much courage as she can muster.

“What?” sneers Kuzuryu. “Got something to say? Say it. Shout it, if you can! I’m all ears.”

Kuzuryu lifts her foot in preparation for another nudge, but with the malice in her eyes, Chiaki’s courage shrivels up and she prepares herself for a kick.

“Stop!”

A guy in a black suit forces himself into the confrontation and literally shields Chiaki with his body. With Kuzuryu’s nose three inches from his chest, she has to take three steps back just to meet his eyes. “The hell is this, Hinata?”

“She’s my friend,” says Hinata. Chiaki anchors her trembling form in the steadiness of his tone. “I told her to wait for me here.”

“You? The fucker who stares at the main building all the time, actually having Ultimate friends? Don’t give me that shit. Move, bitch.”

When she stabs a finger into Hinata's chest, he sags around the impact point as if suffering from a dagger wound. That’s what motivates Chiaki to finally surge to her feet and grab his hand. “Let’s go.”

She pulls him away, intent on putting as much distance between her and the younger Kuzuryu as soon as possible. Thankfully the younger Kuzuryu doesn’t give chase, her arm falling slack (along with her jaw).

Chiaki is just about to relax when Kuzuryu shouts, “Drop out while you’re ahead, loser!” A fearful glance back reveals one last image of the blonde’s blazing golden eyes accompanied by an odd sheen (tears, maybe?). Hinata’s face is also very, very pink for unknown reasons, but Chiaki doesn’t stop to ponder that.

Hinata adjusts his grip so he can slow her down when she swings a right at the central fountain to head south. “N-Nanami, where are you going?”

She opens her mouth. To her room, obviously. It’s her safe haven. Neither Kuzuryu can reach her in the girls’ dormitory. Pekoyama might be there, but with Hinata by her side, Chiaki can take her on. Probably. Plus she’ll finally be able to talk to Hinata in peace within the confines of… her bedroom…

She blurts the first thing that comes to her mind. “The arcade to the south of campus just opened a whole new section of rhythm games.”

Hinata’s cheeks redden even more so. “Like _DDR_? I can’t dance to save my life though...”

“No, more like _Taiko Drum Master_ or _MaiMai_. Minimal exertion rhythm games.”

He glances back at the reserve course building in the distance. “I should probably check with my homeroom… I kinda ditched my cleaning buddies.”

“You weren’t done with cleaning duty?”

Hinata rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, no? I hope the recycling bin is still where I left it…”

The pink flush on his face has blossomed into a full red glow by this point. He hasn’t left yet, so she takes her opportunity while they’re relatively alone by the water fountain. “Thanks.”

Hinata glances at her, startled. “What? Sorry, you spoke so quietly…”

“Thanks for saving me,” she repeats. “If you hadn’t come around, I… probably wouldn’t have been able to do anything… so thanks.” She takes a moment to collect her thoughts. “Can we exchange numbers so I can just wait for you here at the fountain next time?”

“N-Next time?”

She releases his hand to retrieve her phone. His panicked breathing seems to even out ever so slightly when they break contact. “If you have to go back and finish cleaning up, I understand. But next time I need a gaming buddy, it’d be nice if I could get a hold of you right away.”

“B-Buddy?”

“Or just a friend.” They _are_ friends, right? He’d said it himself not twenty minutes ago. Friends do things together, not just gaming. Like…  “Wanna come stargazing tonight?”

“S-Star…”

At this point he also seems to realize he sounds like a broken record and quickly snaps his mouth shut. He swallows and thinks hard. Chiaki knows the feeling; she can wait as long as he needs.

“Why?”

If this is about the meteor shower… “Because Naegi--we ate beef bowls with him last Tuesday, remember?--invited me and I need somebody to go with.” On second thought, if this is about the buddy part… “Well, you said it first. Even though I already was thinking it. You’re my friend.” But if he’s referring to the future… “I kinda assumed there’d always be a next time. Do… Do you not… not want to…”

“I do!” he exclaims. “I still do, Nanami. I… I just wasn’t sure about my future. I still don’t know.”

“We’re not supposed to know the future. We only know what’s going to happen now. Like tonight. Naegi says there’ll be shooting stars. Wanna camp out on a rooftop with me and Naegi?”

“I… I don’t live here.”

 _You can sleep in my room_ , she almost says. She could sleep on the sizeable couch in front of her 60-inch TV while Hinata takes the bed. It could work. But if Koizumi caught them, she’d probably never hear the end about gender roles and whatever. Not to mention his presence would totally break every rule of the dormitory. “Naegi knows his way around the school,” she replies instead, “and he doesn’t live here either.”

“I… I--”

She grabs his hand. “We don’t even know what’s going to happen tomorrow. You just gotta carpe diem 100%.”

Hinata finally breaks into a hesitant smile and pulls out his cellphone. “...Okay. What’s your number?”

* * *

**Evening**

* * *

Her copy of _Dead Fantasy VIII_ seems to be broken. Or unfinished. When her screen whites out and returns her to the main screen for the fourth time, Chiaki sighs and prepares to switch games.

“No, not here! There’s--”

“Ain’t no thang. I guarantee she totally won’t notice. Now shuddap and kiss me.”

A squeal that couldn’t have come from anybody other than Tsumiki pierces Chiaki’s ears but is abruptly cut off by soft, wet noises occasionally punctuated by breathy gasps. Chiaki quietly places her game on the couch of the dorm common room and lifts her eyes to behold none other than Mikan Tsumiki pinned up against a wall by a gorgeous woman with strawberry-blonde hair pulled back into two massive pigtails. Even as Chiaki watches, the woman presses into Tsumiki hard, pressing a forearm into the torso beneath breasts and sensually sliding her leg back and forth between Tsumiki’s. When Tsumiki halfheartedly attempts to push her off, the woman pins both arms above her head.

All of this happens literally six feet in front of Chiaki. Tsumiki can’t help but notice this even though her eyes can’t resist rolling back in sheer bliss. “U-U-Um, she’s l-l-l-look-king…”

The woman shoves her tongue down Tsumiki’s throat. Tsumiki quivers. Tears shimmer from the corners of her eyes.

Right.

Um.

Okay…  

Wow.

Huh. Is Chiaki supposed to be here? Judging from Tsumiki’s stammered protests (however ineffectual they may be), Chiaki eventually determines yes, she should probably retreat if only for Tsumiki’s comfort. The common room is probably the least private place to have a makeout session, but with most girls either cooking dinner in their rooms or eating at the cafeteria, Tsumiki and her girlfriend will probably get about a half-hour before gossipy onlookers start accumulating en masse. (Chiaki herself doesn't count. She doesn't talk enough, much less gossip.)

The moment she ejects the game cartridge and places it into storage, however, the woman throws Tsumiki to the carpet at Chiaki’s feet. “Daaayum! Were you actually peepin’ on us, Nanami-senpai?” The starry-eyed underclasswoman act abruptly shifts to a more regal, sophisticated tone. “And all this time I kept telling him you were the world’s quietest zombie wallflower.” She sticks out her tongue as a slightly crazed look enters her eyes. “Whatevs. Guess this kinda fuckery happens when ya just assume shit.”

“Na-Na-Nanami.” Tsumiki trembles. “I-I’m s-s-s-s-sorreeeek!”

The girl shoves the heel of her boot between Tsumiki’s legs. The Ultimate Nurse half-squeals, half-moans. ...Does she actually enjoy getting stepped on?

“Shuddap, you freakin’ ‘bot. I’m talking to a plot-important NPC here.” She places her hands on her hips, confidently throws out her chest, and smirks like heaven is her throne and the world her footstool. “What’s your name, hmm? Nanananami?”

Chiaki doesn’t answer right away. She’s hesitant, caught off-guard by this girl who cycles through personae at the drop of a pin. Her many faces are so believable, yet once they’ve been cast aside, a complete stranger is left behind.

The girl’s entire body droops, from the slant of her perfect eyebrows to the slump of her shoulders. “You don’t want to tell me your name? But I just wanted you to notice me, senpai.” The crazy look is back in her eyes as she grinds her heel between Tsumiki’s legs again.

Tsumiki’s mouth drops open in a silent scream, but it’s the sudden deluge of tears from eyes squeezed shut that finally moves Chiaki to action. “Stop.”

The girl freezes. “What didya say?”

Chiaki swallows and raises her voice a decibel. “You’re hurting her. Stop.”

“Um.” The girl’s eyes disappear behind the shadow of her bangs as a shit-eating grin grows to encompass the entirety of her visible face. “Nah. I don’t think I will.”

Chiaki was never much good with words. Actions are much easier, so she sinks to her knees, hooks her elbows into Tsumiki’s armpits, and, though she lacks upper body strength, she makes up for it with as much wimpy courage as she can gather and somehow manages to drag Tsumiki away from the girl’s abusive boot.

“Like, ohmigod? You actually have a spine. I’m like totally surprised right now, y’know.” A hand whips up to cover half the girl’s face, leaving just one steely eye exposed, as her posture snaps into a military-worthy stance. “But this development in itself was not unexpected. After all, I’ll always be three steps ahead of you and your Fool. Your move, Chiaki Nanami."

Chiaki doesn’t watch her sashay off; she’s only aware of the girl shaking in her arms. Is this fright? Cold? Anger? “Tsumiki… who was that?”

When Tsumiki lifts her face, Chiaki immediately discerns it’s neither. A bit of drool drops from glistening lips as Tsumiki giggles. “She’s a wonderful woman…”

“Are you hurt?”

“It’s a good kind of hurt.” Tsumiki leans in till their foreheads touch and their breaths intermingle. It’s reminiscent of the moment Chiaki had shared with Sonia in the bathroom stall, yet this gesture has none of that intimacy or calmness--just a needy rush of energy, a tense electric wire threatening to snap as Tsumiki brings her lips within millimeters of Chiaki’s. “Won’t you hurt me too, Nanami?”

Tsumiki shuts her eyes as she closes the distance.

A second later, her eyelids flutter open again.

Chiaki drops her hand from between their mouths so she can say, “I’m not going to hurt you.” Then, because she’s not sure what else to do, she tilts her head to the side and brings Tsumiki into a hug.

Tsumiki shivers again. When she speaks, her voice has returned to its usual shaky warble. “Do you h-hate me?”

“No.”

“Then d-d-do something to me, please! I, I can make c-constipated pig noises if you want. It’s more believable if you ch-choke me with a collar. Ooh, or you could push my face down the toilet. I can hold my breath… a lot longer than m-most people. I’m. Um. I’m learning a fourth lap-dancing routine, b-b-but three is usually enough for most guys. Girls, too, if I play with their--”

Chiaki bops the side of her head against Tsumiki’s. “None of that really sounds fun to me.”

“But at my old high school…”

“Was your girlfriend from your old school?”

“I d-don’t have a… oh, Junko? No… but she, she was the first one here w-who actually wanted to hang out with me…”

Chiaki holds her firmly in the hug even when she tries to pull away. It’s safe here in the embrace. Tsumiki can’t accomplish much when their bodies are smooshed against each other like this.

“What video games do you play?”

“Ehhh? I… I don’t really…”

“Do you have a computer?”

“...Yes…”

Chiaki rolls off her knees and onto the balls of her feet, pulling Tsumiki up with her until they’re both upright. “I’ll grab my laptop and we’ll find a game we can play together then.” At Tsumiki’s hesitance, she adds, “We can find a co-op game to play together. That way I’ll keep needing you if I ever want to play that game, okay?”

“...A-Are you sure you don’t want me to do something else? I can suck your toes. Or your thighs. Or your cli--”

“ _No._ ”

_+0.5 Courage!_

* * *

**Night**

* * *

“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find you and would get caught by security. Guess I shouldn’t have worried.”

Chiaki glances up from the luminescent glow of her _SwitchNX_. Something in her chest does a little flip at Hinata in a pea jacket and white scarf. Isn’t the weather a little too warm to be wearing that? “Hmm?”

“Eh, never mind.” Hinata eyes the building’s top floor. “Can’t believe I’m sneaking onto the roof tonight…”

“Building restrictions aren’t till next week though.”

“Hm?”

“We should probably meet by the central fountain next week when the board of directors visits, but normally there isn’t anything keeping you from the east side of campus, right? Just like there’s no reason I can’t wait for you by the reserve course building.”

“Is that what the school admins told you?” Hinata laughs. The noise is somewhat sour, somewhat bitter, and makes Chiaki pause her game and turn her full attention to him.

“That’s what my homeroom teacher said.”

“Mine didn’t say anything of the sort,” says Hinata. He touches the building hesitantly. When nobody slaps him on the wrist, he presses a full palm against its glass and concrete surface. “All reserve course students are restricted to the western campus only. No exceptions.”

Chiaki processes this for a moment. It brings back to mind a thought trail she had earlier this week… “What about school clubs?”

“What about them?”

“Say… you want to join the martial arts club because international champion Sakura Oogami is helping. Then you’d have to come to the main course building to practice in the dojo, right?”

Hinata doesn’t turn to address her. The faint moonlit reflection of Hinata in the window squeezes his eyes shut. “Subdivisions,” he mutters, fingers on the window curl into a fist. “Our building has a multipurpose gym for more clubs than it can handle, but that’s probably where the subdivision of reserve course students in the martial arts club meet.”

She stores her handheld in a pocket and takes a step closer. After a great moment of hesitation, she superimposes her hand atop the fist pressed against the glass. “I didn’t know,” she apologizes. “But… why did you agree to come?”

He’s silent for a long time. Then he drops his arm and smiles dimly at her. “We don’t know what next week has in store. Might as well seize the moments we have now, right?”

Chiaki nods. A small smile makes its way onto her lips as she rotates her wrist and clasps his hand. “You’re my exception,” she promises. “If security catches us, I’ll tell them you’re my exception.”

“Nanami…” His tone of voice abruptly becomes distant and cold. “I shouldn’t be a special case.”

“What are you saying?”

His previously unresponsive fingers squeeze hers almost uncomfortably. “Ultimates like you… deserve to be surrounded by the best. Why are you even hanging out with a scrub like me?”

She thinks about this for a moment. “Do I need a reason?”

Hinata seems unsatisfied with this answer, but a burst of light interrupts their conversation. Hinata yanks his hand away like they’ve just been caught elbows-deep in the cookie jar.

“Ack, sorry!” Naegi directs his flashlight beam at the ground. “Nanami, I’m glad you could make it! And Hinata, it’s so good to see you again. I got Sonia’s text, so I guess she’s in bed already. Are we expecting anybody else?”

Chiaki shakes her head and shakes out her fingers to get blood flowing in them again. Is it just her, or did the temperature drop a couple degrees?

Five minutes later, she confirms that might as well be the case. This high up in the night sky, a persistent and chilly wind tries its best to flip up her skirt. Hinata’s a good head taller than she is and his pea jacket gives him the illusion of having wide shoulders (even though she knows he’s skinny as a bean pole) - either way, he serves well as a makeshift wind buffer, and she immediately hides in his shadow as they proceed up the stairs to the rooftop, which is entirely enclosed within a fifteen-foot chain-link fence. She dives underneath the pile of quilts the moment she spots them laid out in the center of the empty space.

And immediately sits on a soggy blanket laid in a puddle of standing water.

She shifts to the nearest dry spot and glares at the guy sitting on a folding chair a couple feet away. She thinks it’s a glare. With her level of expression, it probably amounts to a bland stare. She does a double take. Then, as Naegi and Hinata approach, she asks, “Is he even in high school anymore?”

“Heeeeeey, Naegster!” said the thirty-year old man. He has a groomed moustache and soul patch, circle eyeglasses, and massive mane of dreadlocks to prove it. “Sweet, you managed to bring some peeps!”

“Sorry, Hiro,” says Naegi, glancing around the empty rooftop. “It doesn’t look like you’ll have enough members for your club.”

“Doncha worry ‘bout that, Naegster. At this point, I just need people to drink my hot chocolate! And to answer your question, ma’am, the name’s Yasuhiro Hagakure, sexy twenty-somethin’ clairvoyant extraordinaire! You got any questions about the future? I’ll read the stars for you free of charge, just for tonight!”

“Chiaki Nanami. Ultimate Gamer.”

“Hajime Hinata.” He prepares to take a seat next to her. She drags him away from the wet blanket and pats a dry patch of concrete to her right. He settles down, face turned away. “I’m… nothing. Never mind.”

“And I’m Makoto Naegi.” He seats himself on a folding chair next to Hagakure. “Free? That’s strange, coming from you.”

“Ey! Can’t be chargin’ people of money when celestial beings are lookin’ down on us and all that.” At three looks of confusion, he elaborates, “Well, back in good ol’ Grecoegyptian times, everybody thought space was just this gigantic bubble shielding the world from the heavens. Every once in a while when some god would get super curious and tear open the space bubble to peek down on us, some stars would get knocked loose and slip through the crack in the sky. People in them old days thought, _hey, if stars are falling, must mean there’s Someone up there who’ll hear and grant my wish!_ So who knows? Maybe some higher power’s checkin’ up on us right now. So… star readings! Free! For as long as the Great Ones be lookin’ at me.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with next week’s inspections.”

“Augh, seriously, is that all anybody can talk about nowadays? Board of directors this, steering committee that. So what if they’re checking us out? I don’t have any secrets to hide or nothin’. It’s not like I’ve ever scammed the some baby-faced yakuza lady into buying your lucky liver to pay off my eight million yen debt. Never squeezed money out of any of my clients in my life! I’m an honest man, Naegster. Doncha believe me?”

While Hagakure valiantly defends his honor, Hinata grabs Chiaki’s attention by bumping their shoulders together. “Feels a little too early in the year to be doing this, doesn’t it?”

She shivers as the breeze seeps through the quilt. Maybe she should have changed into her pajama pants. Her lower thighs are exposed and feel especially vulnerable when wet. “July’s nights are easier to sit through than May’s.”

Hinata hums affirmatively.

Silence stretches between them and she has to resist the urge to pull out her new handheld console. She’d have to expose her hands and upper body to the breeze just to play, plus the screen of her device would probably light up the entire rooftop even on the lowest brightness setting. The heat of Hinata’s body radiates through his thick woolen jacket and she scoots until she’s right up against him and his warmth. It’s small comfort from the chilly wind but it’s better than nothing.

“Nanami… Are you doing okay?”

“Mm-hm. Just cold.”

“No, not that…”

He seems to fully comprehend her words a second later and hurriedly sheds his outer layer. He’s wearing a forest green sweater over a collared shirt and green tie, so she has no qualms in swaddling herself within the depths of his jacket. It’s massive on her but still has his heat embedded into all its fibers and judging by the slight scent of musk he might have actually been sweating in this, so she’s technically doing him a favor by taking the coat off his body. Her butt is still cold and wet, but the absence of wind chill is a definite step up.

“I was referring to what Natsumi Kuzuryu said today…” continues Hinata as soon as they’re resettled next to each other, still nestled in three quilts and occasionally sipping hot chocolate. “Did she hurt you?”

“Mmm… I haven’t really thought about it.” She pauses. “I passed my geometry quiz today, so I guess I’m not failing _all_ my classes.”

Hinata chuckles once. “Sounds like you. Look, what she said… about dropping out… Kuzuryu hopes--well, every reserve course student hopes--that if a spot opens up in the main course, maybe they’ll be able to fill that spot. That’s the only reason Kuzuryu attacked you today. But even if she does manage to bully somebody into dropping out, I don’t think the school works like that.”

“There’s only fifteen students in my class," she says after a moment of thought. "But there’s sixteen desks. The seat to my left has been empty since the school year started.”

“See? The headmaster doesn’t need the teenage talents themselves. He needs the synergy of a hundred students, each with their own crippling overspecialization, working and interacting together for... hope, the good of humankind, whatever. But I think when the board of directors comes next week and sees that a century of collecting the world's ultimate high school level students hasn’t brought them the kinds of human advancements they’re looking for, they’ll look for other ways.”

“Human advancements?” She pulls away from him to get a good look at his face. “Hinata, what are you talking about?”

After a moment, he faces her with a sheepish grin. “Eh, never mind. Just rambling.”

Though she wants to shrug it off, something in her gut keeps her on the trail. “You sound like you’re familiar with the board of directors.”

Hinata looks slightly uncomfortable at this. “Uh. This isn’t something I’m supposed to tell anybody. ...But one person can’t hurt, right?” He looks her right in the eyes and she notices for the first time that, though his irises are a cool jade green, a lighter circle of vivid emerald runs around his pupils. “Especially since it’s you, Nanami.”

She nods slowly.

He leans back on his hands and looks up at the night sky. “I’ve been emailing the steering committee since beginning of the school year. I have an interview with them next week.”

“An interview? What for?”

“Can’t say.” His face is still turned upward. “To be honest, I’m not sure either. _Tabula rasa_ , one of ‘em said. A special talent, all on its own.”

“It means _blank slate_.”

Chiaki rolls her head in Naegi’s direction. “Eh?”

“It just means you approach everything with an open mind. You don’t bring any preconceived notions to the table and you don’t let predetermined goals interfere with your judgment.” Naegi smiles wistfully. “It’s a good trait to have as a detective.”

“Sounds like me,” Hinata whispers, eyes fluttering shut.

A streak of light glimmers in the night as the first star falls.

* * *

Hinata trusted her.

But she trusts Kirigiri. Even more so, so does Naegi. If Chiaki can’t trust her own judge of character, she can at least believe in Naegi’s social awareness and skill. And Naegi told her to put her trust in Kirigiri.

Thus it’s with only slight hesitation (and a silent apology to Hinata) that Chiaki writes in _HeartGold Unown_ code on the backside of Naegi’s crumpled Tanabata diagram:

HAJIME HINATA IS TABULA RASA

Kirigiri will handle this. The underclasswoman (or whatever she is) will know how to best handle this classified information, however unimportant it may seem, as objectively as possible. Chiaki doesn’t know; she just has a hunch. That’s how detectives operate, isn't it? On gut feelings. Even so, she can’t help but feel like she’s betraying Hinata; so as she slips the sheet under Kirigiri’s dorm room door, she sends a wish to the heavens.

_I want to stay with my classmates. I want to play video games with Hinata. Please, just one more game, one more round… Give me the time to make more memories with my friends._

_+1 Hope Fragment: Hanged Man!_

_Hope Fragment: Star unlocked._

* * *

**Chiaki Nanami’s Social Qualities**

Empathy: basic (level 1.5)  
Expression: rough (level 1)  
Knowledge: aware (level 1)  
Courage: average (level 1)  

**Chiaki Nanami's Major Arcana**

0\. Fool..................★☆☆☆☆..... Hajime Hinata  
I. Magician............☆☆☆☆☆..... ʞɐznᴉɔɥᴉ Sonpɐ  
II. Priestess...........★☆☆☆☆..... Mikan Tsumiki  
III. Empress..........★★☆☆☆..... Sonia Nevermind  
IV. Emperor...........☆☆☆☆☆.... Nekomaru Nidai  
V. Hierophant........☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
VI. Lovers.............☆☆☆☆☆..... Akane Owari  
VII. Chariot...........☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu~~ (advance Pekoyama first)  
VIII. Justice...........☆☆☆☆☆..... Ryota Mitarai  
IX. Hermit.............★☆☆☆☆..... Peko Pekoyama  
X. Fortune.............★☆☆☆☆..... Nagito Komaeda  
XI. Strength..........☆☆☆☆☆.....  ~~Mahiru Koizumi~~ (advance Saionji first)  
XII. Hanged Man....★☆☆☆☆..... Kyoko Kirigiri  
XIII. Death............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????  
XIV. Temperance....☆☆☆☆☆..... Ibuki Mioda  
XV. Devil...............☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Teruteru Hanamura~~ (advance Owari first)  
XVI. Tower............☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Hiyoko Saionji~~ (advance Tsumiki first)  
XVII. Star..............★☆☆☆☆..... Makoto Naegi  
XVIII. Moon...........☆☆☆☆☆..... Gundham Tanaka  
XIX. Sun...............★☆☆☆☆..... Yukizome-Sensei  
XX. Judgement.......☆☆☆☆☆..... ~~Izuru Kamukura~~ (automatic with story progression)  
XXI. World.............☆☆☆☆☆..... ?????

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike weekdays which are split into clean time periods (morning/lunch/afternoon/evening/night) because of school, weekends will be divided into two events MAX. These events can be devoted to furthering relationships with unlocked individuals or boosting Chiaki’s social qualities via certain activities. In the Persona games, weird things like drinking coffee or visiting the creepy nurse’s office increased your Knowledge or Courage. I’ll leave it up to you readers to suggest activities for the Personaronpa universe! Whatever activity you choose (video gaming, community service, shopping, job hunting, sightseeing, etc), at least one DR1/2/3 character will just so happen to be there as well.
> 
> All character relationships are more likely to advance on weekends because Chiaki will spend the entire morning/afternoon with them. However, keep in mind Kuzuryu, Pekoyama, Owari, Hanamura, Saionji, and Mitarai are generally more accessible when they’re not trapped in a school setting, so plan your Saturdays and Sundays accordingly.
> 
> If a classmate has already expressed interest in hanging out over the weekend, be sure to take them up on their offer! In the early stages of friendship, they won’t be too offended if Chiaki forgets; but around three hope fragments they’ll think Chiaki’s brushing them off and their arcana will reverse. 
> 
> Final note: once an arcana has been maxed, that relationship is untouchable! They’re brothers/soul-friends/bandmates/BFFs/etc for life. 
> 
> (I am completely unashamed to admit that these shorter weekends are my first attempt to cut corners and get to 100 chapters faster. Midterms during week 7 is going to rush by fast too--mornings and afternoons will be taken up entirely by exams. But… that’s week 7 and I’m barely past week 3 -_-)


End file.
